《The Pentilians》 (00) Prologue (Author''s note: If you haven''t read the first book of the series, I recommend you read that first. (The Book of Heresy: http://royalroadl.com/fiction/3348)) Herklendir overlooks the sea as two ships are being prepared for a naval battle. The sun slowly starts to rise. It saddens him to see the horizon so empty as the great tower has fallen. The fishermen reported humans preparing ships to cross the sea from Lycar, a city founded by Lycon to transport troops to Oliron. Helara, the fishing village Herklendir is currently in, is the closest dock. Should the humans invade, they will surely cross to here. The others in the council won''t realise how dangerous humanity could be if they cross the straight, so Herklendir has decided to take matters into his own hands, but without the support of the other armies. The Pentilian is divided into eleven parts. Each one of those parts has it''s own leader. These leaders form the council. The leader is always the oldest in the higher circle. The higher circles provide advice for the current ruler and consist out of the eldest within the high ranking families. Each family has one member in the higher circle. Next to the higher circle there is also the local priesthood, forming the core of the religious body. Each area is overseen by a priest who answer directly to the high priest. Atop the hierarchy stands the head of the council. He is the oldest and wisest of all. With the local priest absent, this is Herklendir''s chance to take military action with the forces under his direct command as Herklendir is the oldest in this area. With 159 years of experience he is second in line for the place of head of the council. "The ships are ready, sir." A Pentilian soldier running up to Herklendir says. "Excellent!" Herklendir says, walking towards the soldier. "Let us get onboard, soldier." Herklendir climbs onto one of the Pentilian ships. The ships are slightly larger than fishing boats and have a steel ram on the front. The ships aren''t very high though, so there is no place to sleep onboard. "Get rowing, Pentilians!" Herklendir yells after the soldier also climbed onboard. "We sail to Lycar!" "Captain!" Harald yells, shouting through the wind. Harald is a middle sized man and is fairly thin. His brown hair shimmers with salty water. "How long before we reach the Pentilians?" "We have hardly left port, mage!" The captain yells from the helm. "I suggest you sit back down. Let us sail the ship." "I do not like your tone, captain!" Harald says. "I am disciple of the great Xandrien and mage of the realm, send here to start diplomatic relations with the Pentilians." "Yes, and if you don''t sit down, you''ll keel over the railing with your magic." The captain says. "Besides I have heard you are the youngest of the disciples. Avon, could you help this gentleman find his seat." "Sir." Avon says. Avon is wearing a new set of armour developed by the workshop. Iron plates rest all across his body and an iron helmet with wings is placed on his head. The armour is covered in decorations as the workshop can never resist adding them. Avon grabs Harald by the arm and drags him back to the benches. Harald tries to struggle, but he can''t do anything to the strong man. "Why are you even here, Avon?" Harald asks as he sits down. "Fenwick told me to accompany you on this trip." Avon says. "Captain Morgan may be a good sailor, but if hostilities break out, you will need someone who knows combat." "Why is he leading these four ships anyway?" Harald asks laying himself down on the bench. "He is knows these waters better than anyone." Avon says."Besides these fishermen respect him. We are lucky to have a west wind." The sun rises ahead of them. Harald looks past Avon, back at Oliron. A column of fire rises from the south of the island. Harald rushes to the back of the ship, closely followed by Avon. "What are you up to now m..." Morgan begins, but as he turns around he sees the column of fire. "What is that?" Avon wonders. "Maybe one of the others?" Harald says. "Kelekter went south to help in the quarries." "An explosion that big though..." Avon says, as he is slightly familiar with magic. "Ship dead ahead!" The lookout yells. "Ship?" Harald asks in surprise. "Bring us in next to them!" Morgan yells, rotating the helm. "Fold the sails!" The ships springs to life as sailors start slowing down the ship. Harald rushes to the front of the ship. In the distance two low ships row towards them. The ships draw nearer and nearer, but still give no indication of lowering their speed. Harald can hear the rhythm now. A short humanoid creature stands in front of the rest yelling. They are close now. Too close. "They are planning to ram us!" Morgan yells. "Brace!" Harald sees the metal reinforcing the fronts of their ships and realises their ship will never survive being rammed by them. Only one option is left to him. He raises his hands an focuses. He has never summoned interriftal energy in two places at the same time before, but he has to now. He slits two pieces off of his soul focusing on the two ships that are about to get rammed. The left ship changes course and heads straight for them. The speed the ship has is insufficient to damage or break their ships and should they get rammed they would surely be boarded. So Harald focuses. Just before the ships collide, Harald opens a tear, causing interriftal energy to flow through. The ship lunges forward, completely shattering the metal guarding the front of the other ship. A loud crack fills the air as the other ships is slit in two because of the impact. The Pentilians are tossed through the air and land in the water. As they cannot swim they all soon drown. As the ship crashed into the other ship, the impact causes Harald to stumble forward. He used too much energy boosting both ships and was now powerless to save himself. He falls overboard into the deep blue sea. He sinks to the bottom, lacking the energy to even move. Stolen story; please report. "Brace!" Morgan yells holding on to the helm tightly. "I''m warning the men below deck." Avon says, sprinting to the stairs. One hundred trained spearmen accompany them to assist during any potential hostilities. Most of the soldiers are below deck, so they aren''t in the way of the sailors. Seconds before impact the ship jolts forward, tossing Morgan away from the helm and he crashes into the back railing. Moments later the ship comes to a near full stop before Morgan has any chance to recover. He slides and rolls across the wooden surface. Splitters pierce his skin. He is stopped by the helm, smashing into the wood. Battered and brushed he lays there for a second before slowly climbing to his feet. "Is everyone alright?" Morgan ask slowly. No response. "On your feet people!" Morgan yells. "We''ve got a ship to sail." Some men climb back to their feet battered and shaken, but not hurt significantly. Others were not so fortunate. The lookout lies head first on the deck. His neck broken and the wood cracked. Avon stumbles back up the stairs. Splinters cover his metal arm and blood is splattered across his arm. "You alright, general?" Morgan asks. "Not mine..." Avon mumbles walking up to the stairs. "I fell on one of my men. What was that speed increase just now?" "Not sure, general, but it saved the ship." Morgan says. "Someone tell me bad the damage is! Could our little mage have caused it." "Likely." Avon says. "Where is he?" "He was at the front of the ship before impact." Morgan says. "Not sure where he is now though. Maybe..." Morgan grows pale and starts walking to the side of the ship. "Maybe what?" Avon asks, following him. Concern fills Morgan''s face as he stares into the deep waters below. "Maybe he fell in..." Morgan mumbles. "But the boy can swim!" Avon says. "He should have surfaced if he fell in. There must be something else that happened." "When a ships sinks it drags down anyone above it." Morgan says. "He could have followed those Pentilians down to the bottom and we would be none the wiser." "But he could still be on he ship." Avon says full of hope. "He could have simply been tossed around, just like we were." "We have both seen the deck, haven''t we." Morgan says. "Tell me, general, did you see Harald anywhere? Anywhere at all?" "No..." Avon says slowly. "But we need him to negotiate! Without him we cannot continue this mission." "The time for negotiations is over, general." Morgan says. "We will press on, so we may use the advantage Harald sacrificed himself for to its fullest." "Captain!" A sailor yells. "The ship is still operational, but she''s making water, sir! If we do not dock soon, we will still sink." "No turning back now." Morgan says. "Full sail! We will dock at Helara!" Wounded sailors pick themselves up, preparing to return life to the ship. The sail drops again and fills with air. Slowly the ship starts to move. Soon all four ships are sailing at full speed again. The longer the ships sails, the lower it sinks into the water and the slower it gets. Helara comes into clear few slowly, but Morgan still worries. Will his ship make it to the docks? A loud crack fills the air. The second ship that was hit, the ship right of Morgan''s, slows down drastically as the entire front section plummets into the water. The front leans deeper and deeper into the water. "Get clear of the ship!" Morgan yells to all captains. "If we stay to close we will be dragged down as well! Gallat, keep your ship close enough to rescue the survivor after the danger passes. Our ship won''t stay afloat too much longer!" "Yes, captain!" Gallat yells from the ship on Morgan''s left. Two ships continue as panicked and confused men abandon ship behind them. The yelling and screaming of those incapable of swimming can be heard for miles. "One hundred of my men are on that ship." Avon says. "Do you truly think we can invade a continent with just two hundred men spread across these two ships." "If we don''t press the advantage now, general, I am certain they will strengthen their naval defences. This is our best shot at taking Helara." Morgan says. "Two hundred men and a little over a hundred reinforcements should be enough to take the port at this time." "I''ll get ready." Avon says coldly as he walks to the stairs. "Warn me before we dock. I''ll bring the men up." "Let''s keep this boat floating, men!" Morgan yells. The ship continues to slowly sink into the ocean as the beaches draw near. (01) Armistice "You were documenting the revolution twenty years ago, Lycon, were you not?" Fake asks. "I would like to have a closer look at it." "Are you going to be the next one to want it destroyed?" Lycon asks cautiously. "If that''s the case, you won''t be seeing it anytime soon." "You still cling to a task given to you by a vanquished god..." Fake sighs. "No, I do not intend to destroy your work. I have other plans for it." "That vanquished god might have been my enemy, but at least he gave me a purpose." Lycon states, turning to face fake. "Axsel, I don''t know if you have realised yet, but my perception of time differs from yours. Without a goal I would slowly degrade into a mindless husk. Would you send me to die already! Two thousand years has been too much for my simple soul to bear." "I will not kill you, Lycon." Fake states, smiling. "I find your company much too pleasant to do so. Who else would I talk to? Ojor? To do that I would have to cross the interplanetary plains and spend a tedious amount if time traveling through those windy fields. Now, please hand me that book so I may inspect it." "For your amusement!" Lycon yells. "I spend my days rotting away for your amusement!" "I need you for humanity!" Fake says in a more serious tone. "With your capabilities of perceiving the material realm, I can shape my plans for the Pentilians. Your book is also part of that plan. Please just hand it to me." "Fine then." Lycon says, sitting down into an appearing chair. "I will do my part for humanity. However, after we finish, you have to promise to end my existence. My mind has reached its limit..." Lycon materialises a book out of thin air and hands it to fake. "I can agree to that." Fake says, reaching out to grab the book. "What do you plan to do with it anyway?" Lycon asks. "I plan to use it to liberate humanity from the island of Oliron." Fake says with a satisfied smile on his face. "Like when you unleashed Goblins on Oliron to disrupt Arthfael''s control and send the human society in chaos?" Lycon asks with an accusing look. "I really hope it doesn''t compare to that act..." "It was necessary to achieve a free humanity." Fake defends. "Humanity won''t see it that way." Lycon says. "How would they discover it, though?" Fake says, grinning. "I hope that the book does not mention my direct involvement." "I''ll remove it..." Lycon says with a hint of sadness in his eyes. "I''ll help you reconquer the cities I lost. Lying to humanity is a small price to pay for that goal." "Well said." Fake says, the second phase of his plan slowly taking shape. "Men!" Avon yells. "Prepare yourselves. We need to assume that the natives of this land are extremely hostile towards us. We need to confirm this however, so do not engage in combat until we are certain of their intentions. Now get ready!" "Why even bother seeing if they are peaceful towards us?" Morgan asks. "They struck first." "We still can''t assume that everyone we meet there is hostile towards us." Avon responds. "For all we know this was a rebel faction seeking war between humanity and the Pentilians." Morgan looks displeased but turns back to his crew. "Prepare to dock!" Morgan yells. "We are still making water. We have no time to waste!" The men rush of to prepare ropes to secure the ship at the docks. Men are running around on the other ship as well, doing the same thing. The decks are extremely cramped with one hundred battle-ready soldiers in formation on the deck. A few gaps in the ranks reveal that not all soldiers survived the attack. The shore is getting closer by the second. In one minute or so the ship should land. On the shore a large group of large people is gathered. They seem to be cheering as if the great heroes back home. The ships draw closer and the cheering slowly fades. The Pentilians on the shore seem to realise the horrible truth. As the ships draw nearer the crowd realises that these are no Pentilian ships. They are to high and lack the iron reinforcements. On the deck tall figure run around. Humans... "Where is Herklendir?" A Pentilian with a staff yells, making his way through the crowd. "He used my absence to lead some of you to Oliron, didn''t he? Bring him to me before he leaves. I strictly forbid it." "Priest..." A Pentilian soldier starts. "Herklendir left hours ago and now..." The Pentilian points at the ship. "Blasphemy!" The priest yells. "When he gets of that ship..." The priest now also notices the human ships approaching. He falls to his knees, praying. "Do you think they speak Olirian?" Morgan asks. "Only one way to find out, captain!" Avon answers, walking to the front of the ship, slinging his helmet under his arm. "Hello! We come to open negotiations between our countries." "They attacked us." Morgan hisses at Avon. "We can''t trust them." Avon waves his hand at Morgan to silence him. "We need supplies to repair our ship." He says. The priest gets back up, still looking shaken. "Unfortunately our elder appears to be absent." He says. "Allow me to arrange save passage for you and your men back to Oliron in his stead. If your leader would please follow me." The priest whispers something to a Pentilian who then runs off. "I will accompany you, but I would prefer to take a few of my men along with me." Avon says. "That will be fine..." The priest says. "Jalles, Harrack, Jasmine!" Avon yells. "You will escort me." Two men and a woman separate from the company. "Let us off the ship, captain." Avon says, turning to Morgan. "Are you certain about this, commander?" Morgan says nervously. "I am certain we can''t trust them..." "Let us of the ship, captain." Avon repeats. "I am opening negotiations as ordered." "Alright then..." Morgan says, turning to a few sailors. A rope ladder is lowered from the ship as the docks are too low for a plank. Avon turns to Morgan again. "Morgan, how do you expect me to climb that?" Avon asks. Morgan looks confused at Avon, until he notices the heavy plating he carries. "How do you even see out of that thing..." Morgan mumbles as he turns back to the sailors. "Barely..." Avon mumbles back. The sailors quickly return with a few thicker ropes and bind it around Avon''s armour. "Morgan, what are they doing?" Avon asks worriedly. "We are lowering you onto the dock, since you refuse to take the ladder..." Morgan says. A few soldiers join the group of sailors at the rope. "May some god have mercy on me." Avon mumbles as he slowly walks to the edge of the ship. He looks over the railing. The distance isn''t too long, but falling could cause some nasty injuries. Injuries Avon cannot afford. He sits down on the railing, readying himself for the worst. The railing cracks loudly, but doesn''t break. "Ready!" Morgan yells as he grabs the rope. "Drop yourself over the edge!" Avon looks back down. His escort is already on the dock, waiting for him to be lowered. Slowly he shifts his weight forward to prevent the rope from snapping. Slowly the men on the ship lower him. The rope creaks worryingly and Avon worries it might snap. Just as can almost put his feet down on the wood, the rope snaps, causing Avon to fall the final distance. His right leg hits dock first. It crashes straight through. With a loud crack the planks break. The planks under his left foot do hold, however. Jalles and Harrack quickly rush to his aid, pulling him out of the hole. "Next time I lower you from a ship by rope, Morgan!" Avon yells angrily. "Are you ready?" The priest asks as he walks towards the group. "Yes, we should be ready the follow you." Avon says, approaching the priest. Avon stretches out his hand. "My name is Avon." Avon says. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. "Please follow me, Avon." The priest says, turning around. "A building should be ready for use by now." The priest walks ahead without accepting Avon hand. Avon lowers his hand and follows the short humanoid creature. Fully upright the priest might reach Avon''s waist. Avon is a fairly tall man, but even Morgan, who is significantly shorter than the average man, still reaches Avon''s chest. The crowd parts a the priest approaches. Some bow deeply and other close their eyes in apparent praying. Few among they look after him hatefully. The humans are simply ignored on the other hand for reasons Avon has yet to understand. When looking around, Avon notices how similar these buildings are compared to the buildings at the centre of the city of Oliron. They all have the same base of stone, supported by wood at the sides. The higher levels are all constructed using wooden walls. "Are those really necessary?" The priest asks, pointing at the spears of Avon''s escort. "Just a formality really." Avon lies. "I see..." The priest says, not fully convinced. "We will enter this building." The priest stops and turns to the door of the building. A young Pentilian stands in the door, looking nervous. "Is everything ready?" The priest asks. "Yes, priest." The Pentilian says nervously. "Can I leave now?" The priest nods and the Pentilian rushes away. The priest holds the door open and lets Avon through. He then quickly closes it, locking the escort out. Harrack slams his fist against the door. "Let us in!" He yells. "We mean no ill." The priest ensures Avon. "I merely wish to adress you in private." Avon looks at the Pentilian, then around the room. It is a small room with a table at its centre. Two chairs are placed at the table. To Avon''s surprise he can stand upright in the room. At the back of the room is a door, which seems to lead to a staircase. "Harrack, please wait outside." Avon says, judging himself to be capable of dealing with any threat the old Pentilian can throw at him. "You can keep that..." The priest says, pointing at Avon''s war axe and he walks over to one of chairs. "If it makes you feel comfortable that is." Avon takes the axe off of his back and places it next to the chair before sitting down. "My name is Estaltas." The priest continues, locking eyes with Avon. "I am the priest of this Pentilian province. Let it be clear to you that I wish for you to leave as soon as your ship is restored." "You must see that as a nation, humanity wishes to expand." Avon says, now opening the visor on his helmet. "Soon humanity will reach a point where more space is needed. More than our island can provide." "We have seen your people." Estaltas replies in a cold tone. "We do not seek to be eradicated by you, nor by the entity you call your god. I cannot, nor do I want to, help humanity onto the mainland. The protector of Ataria would damn us all." "Protector of Ataria?" Avon mumbles with confusion. "What do you mean the eradication of your people, Estaltas. We seek nothing of the sort." "If you will not, your god will..." Estaltas states, anger showing on his face. Jalles and Jasmine bump into Harrack, who suddenly stopped. The door is now closed. Angrily Harrack starts slamming his fists into the door. "Let us in!" He yells. He continues yelling and hitting the door, until Avon yells from inside, telling him to stop. "What happened?" Jalles asks Harrack confused. Harrack, a tall and strong man with black hair and a scar across his face turns around to face Jalles. Jalles is a fairly short, but well build boy by the age of nineteen. He has bold hair and blue eyes. "He slammed the door into my face..." Harrack mumbles. "What do we do now?" "I suppose we wait." Jasmine says with a taunting voice. "Since one of us couldn''t hold a door open." Jasmine is a girl of the same age as Jalles with brown hair and green eyes. "Brat." Harrack says, sitting down against the wall. "Stay on guard. We don''t know if they will try something. If they do, we need to be ready." "I wonder how they fight..." Jalles wonders, sitting down next to Harrack. "I noticed they use spears." Harrack says. Jalles, Harrack and Jasmine are all armed with a sword and a spear, the equipment of an officer. The soldiers all carry shield and spears. Officers usually also have shields, but Jalles, Harrack and Jasmine left those on the ship as they are very hard to move with. "They didn''t look like soldiers to me though." Jasmine says. "They seem more like workers." "There is a good change that they might be the same thing here." Harrack states. "For all we know..." Harrack stops talking when a great light fills the entire sky. After a few seconds of blindness, Jalles yells out in pain. The light subsides and Jalles sits their rubbing his head. In front of him lies a book titled: The Book of Heresy. Harrack and Jasmine look in amazement as the same book litters the streets and there still seem to be more falling from the sky. Jalles looks annoyed for a few seconds, until he too notices the rain of books. "What the...?" He starts. "What the, indeed." Harrack says. Confused Pentilians start filling the street. Some of them pray, other stare at the books in amazement. Harrack pick up the book that fell on Jalles. It''s a thick, leather bound book. Oliron clerics would take years to produce so many books. A worried looking Pentilian rushes past them and starts knocking on the building''s door. "Priest!" He yells, panic resonating in his voice. "Priest, you need to see this! A sign from the gods." The door opens and the young Pentilian enters the building. Before Harrack and the others can react, the door locks again. "Priest look!" The Pentilian says, holding up the book. "They fall from the sky!" "Calm down." The priest says, glancing at the book. "The Book of Heresy... What an odd title. Hand it to me." "Yes, priest." The Pentilian says, handing the book over. Estaltas'' looks with concern at the book. Even though he could not say it, he too feared the defeat of Arthfael. Could this book be the horrific answer to that question. Lycon''s name glistened in golden print below the title. Carefully Estaltas opens the book, quickly skipping to the last pages. His eyes widen as he reads. "Is something wrong?" Avon asks, looking at the old Pentilian. Estaltas wispers to the young Pentilian, something Avon cannot hear. The Pentilian rushes off, locking the door behind him. "We will escort you back to your ship, Avon." Estaltas says with a shaking voice. "I fear that the heavens above Oliron have been shaken too much. As priest of the Pentilians I name all humans heretics. You are responsible for the death of the protector of Ataria in some way. Follow me back to your ship, please." "The repairs cannot be finished yet." Avon objects. "We will allow you to remain in port for as long as the repairs take." Estaltas says calmly. "You will, however, not be allowed to set foot on land anymore." Estaltas opens the door, revealing an annoyed Harrack in the doorway. "Stand down, Harrack." Avon says before Harrack can do something. "Yes, general..." Harrack says through gritted teeth. Tension fills the streets now. Hateful glares are cast there way. The old Pentilian priest rushes them along to the harbour. "Please leave as soon as you can." Estaltas says. "Guards!" A large group of Pentilians armed with spears rushes to the dock, forming a line in front of the planks. Twenty Pentilians now block the access to Helara. "What is going on, Avon?" Harrack demands to know. "I wish I knew, Harrack." Avon says, shaking his head. "I wish I knew..." (02) First Strike Unease surrounds Gelikdich, high priest of the Pentilian temples, and the burns on his face ache. A blasphemous book rains down upon the lands on the very day of the temples'' monthly meeting. A text claiming to have killed a god? Gelikdich does not believe a word of it. The gods are an unconquerable force controlling the very fabric of reality. When the gods die, the world would surely end. But now this dream, a dream Gelikdich has seen before occurs. A great white plain of pure energy stretches before him. A message from the gods? Worry start clouding Gelikdich''s judgement. His believe in the gods threatens to falter! Then he calms himself and sits down. Neralis would them him all he needs to know. That must be the reason for Gelikdich''s presence here. Or might it be Golaris, god of Gelikdich''s region? Would a secondary god do such a thing? "Gelikdich..." A harmonious voice says. It echoes across the fields of white, completely relaxing Gelikdich. The great god Neralis had summoned him. He bows before the divine presence, which slowly forms before him. Its form resembles a tall, female Atracarian from the North. The brilliant crystal planted on every Atracarian''s chest shines brighter than any real gem would. Captivated by the sight of the god he served, he could do nothing but gape in awe. Yet he should have wondered why the god of the Pentilians would appear Atracarian. Is he not proud of the race he created? The thought never occurred to him, so entranced was he by the mere presence of one so mighty. "I fear Arthfael, the fool, is dead." Neralis says slowly, looking down on the short Pentilian. "The humans caused his downfall through treachery and deceit. He was too kind to them and now he lost everything." "How could this have happened?" He says shocked, but still bowing. "A god Arthfael regarded as a son murdered him by causing humanity to revolt." Neralis explains. "Something needs to be done, young one." "What can I do, oh mighty goddess?" Gelikdich asks humbly. "Start by assembling an armed force and march it towards Helara." Neralis says, moving closer to Gelikdich. "Purge the humans from our lands there. When that is done, order a fleet to be constructed. You be go to the king for this." Neralis turns around and walks away again. "Don''t disappoint me..." Neralis says as the dream fades. For two days the Pentilians didn''t come to the ships. Whatever the Estaltas read in that book, must have terrified him. All the men on the boat can see of the Pentilians is a row of neatly placed houses. Three main roads seem to separate the groups of buildings. They can only guise that alleyways connect the roads together. "How are the repairs?" Avon asks Morgan with a grim look on his face. "We should be done in a day or two." Morgan responds. "I can''t believe the other ship isn''t here yet though... I know the captain of that ship. He is not one to get lost easily." "They''ll be fine, I''m sure." Avon says. "Some of my best men are on that boat, including one the cavalry. It bothers me how little progress we seem to make with the negotiations." "I told, didn''t I, general?" Morgan says, his distrust of the Pentilians apparent. "Still, they don''t seem as hostile to us now." Avon says. He still has hope in the completion of his mission. "They fear to take hostile action, because they fear the wrath of the gods." Morgan says confidently. "They dare not engage in mindless violence on the soil of their own lands. They will kill us if they get the chance." Avon laughs. "I think that that''s not too far off." He says. "What are they doing there?" Avon points at a large group of Pentilians gathered near the main road. Further down the road, where Avon and Morgan can''t see them, Estaltas is talking with another, older looking, Pentilian with burn marks decorating his face. Estaltas looks worried. "Are you certain this is necessary?" Estaltas says, struggling to keep up with the other Pentilian. "I mean, they will be leaving in a few days." The other Pentilian stops. "Estaltas..." He says, pulling out a paper and shoving it into Estaltas'' face. "Are you questioning this divine order written by the high priest himself? Does it not say that I, Yteral, general of the forces in Skuto, should march to Helara and perform this holy task?" "Yes, but..." Estaltas starts. "No, Estaltas!" Yteral yells. "The high priest has made a decision. A mere priest such as yourself cannot change this. Now get into the formation!" A battalion of Pentilians marches from the gates of the town towards the two. "Now, Estaltas!" Yteral says as he walks towards the front of the formation. "Forward!" "That can''t be good..." Morgan murmurs. As their ship is docked on the left they can hardly see into the main street, but the Pentilian gathered there are now clearing the way for something. "I wonder..." Avon starts, but he stops as his eyes grow wide and he rushes to the stairs on the ship. He disappears below deck. Morgan is left on deck, staring at the crowd of Pentilians. He looks around. The second ship has dropped its anchor away from the shore, too far away to be of help. Looking back at the crowd, Morgan can now see Estaltas now. He is walking next to an older Pentilian with a scar running across his right arm. Half his face is burned and the end of his beard is charred. The short creature carries a small sword, like an sergeant or captain in a human detachment would. The first row of Pentilian spearmen now comes into view. Morgan grows pale at the sight of the armed forces. Their formation turns around the buildings at the end of the central road and faces the ship. "Move!" Avon yells from below deck. "To the deck now!" "Avon?" Morgan yells, worried. "Prepare to sail! Get us away from the coast now!" "No!" Avon yells as he storms onto the deck. Some soldiers are following him. "We can''t afford to leave the coast now. Signal the other ship, Morgan." "You are mad, Avon." Morgan says, while signalling one of his men to raise a red flag. "I hope you know what you''re doing." More soldiers fill the deck slowly. "Stop them!" Yteral yells. "We can''t let them leave!" Avon charges to the front of the ship and jumps over, onto the docks. The wood cracks loudly, but doesn''t break. Strange... The thought crosses Avon''s mind for just a moment. The two Pentilians still guarding the dock look up at the demon of a man, a demon clad in iron, armed with a large axe. One stumbles backwards as the other grabs his spear with both hands, ready to fight. "Don''t let him leave, soldier!" Yteral yells, running towards the docks. The soldier doesn''t stand a chance, however. He thrusts his spear forward, even aiming for a split in the iron plates. Avon hits the side of the tip with his plated left hand and brings his axe down on the unfortunate Pentilian. The Pentilian tries to shield himself with his other arm, but the axe relentlessly rents through his meat and crushes his bones. The Pentilian as the axe splits his skull. Avon pulls his axe lose and turns to the charging battalion, readying himself. Other human soldiers now jump from the ship. Harrack reaches Avon first. "Form a line!" Avon yells at his men. Twenty men have for ed a line at the beginning of the dock as the Pentilian forces slam into them. Both armies are equipped with spears and shields. Both have officers with swords. Both use leather armour. Harrack stands his ground on the rightmost side of the formation as a Pentilian jumps at him. Harrack braces himself. He brings his shield up and prepares his own attack. Just before the Pentilian lands on his shield, Harrack steps forward and slams his shield into the unfortunate Pentilian. The Pentilian is send flying past the docks and lands in the water. Slowly more Pentilians join the line that has now formed. This leaves the left side of the dock weaker than the right. Avon moves himself out of the defensive line, since he would need a spear to properly join the fight. He takes Jalles back with him. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. "I want you to take twenty of our men and flank the enemies left side." Avon says. "Yes, sir." Jalles says, before realising what the order truly meant. "Through the water, sir?" "Yes, now go!" Avon yells back, hurrying back to his men. The battle proceeds slowly, but the Pentilians seem to have the upper hand. Not only do they have the numbers to support prolonged combat, but every time one of the falls another will shift into his position almost instantly, often leading to the death of a human seeking an advantage in the gap. Neither of the force is giving any ground, but soon enough Avon will be out of men to hold the line with. Harrack is still holding the rightmost side of the formation, but a cut along his chest marks a cut he got while trying to take advantage of a gap in the Pentilian line. Sweat shimmers on his forehead. Jasmine took it upon herself the hold the left flank of their formation, but she too looks exhausted. Eight men form the front line with another sixty backing them up. That number has fallen to forty by now. Avon closes his visor. He needs time. Time for Jalles to get into position in order to flank the enemy. He takes big steps, passing row after row of his troops. He takes a deep breath and charges forwards, pushing himself passed the men forming the front line. A spear breaks as it tries to push through Avon''s armour plating. Avon crashes into the Pentilian breaking the Pentilian''s ribs with the impact. Avon swings his axe around in a wide arc, until it stops in the skull of the Pentilian to his right. The pentilian is pushed back by the axe and crashes into the Pentilian behind him. Avon punches the confused Pentilian in front of him with an iron fist, while using his other hand to dislodge his axe from the other Pentilian''s head. The Pentilian to Avon''s left turns around, but is stabbed by the human formation. Another Pentilian to Avon''s left lunges forward, accidentally stabbing Avon in the armpit. The leather supporting this joint is torn and even though the wound isn''t deep, it hurts Avon greatly. "This visor!" Avon yells angrily, bringing his arm down on the spear, breaking it. "I can''t see anything." He grabs the point of the spear and pulls it out of his wound. He turns to the Pentilain and slams the tip into the Pentilian''s face. Blood now decorates Avon''s armour. The Pentilian forces fall into disarray as their formation begins to break. "Move up!" Yteral yells, charging to the front of the line. "Fill the gap!" The Pentilian formation is rapidly restored. An old Pentilian with a burned face now stands before Avon. He charges forward, ducking under Avon''s axe as it arc towards him. He steps forwards and stabs Avon''s chest. The spear shatter on the plates. "What?" The Pentilian stutters. Avon steps closer to the Pentilian, trying to grab his by the neck. The Pentilian quickly jumps backwards, narrowly avoiding his demise. He bends down to grab a spear lying on the ground there. Avon steps in closer, bringing down his axe as fast and hard as he can, but the Pentilian dodges it again. Again the Pentilian steps forward to stab Avon, but this time he aims for Avon''s waist. The spear pierces the leather and Avon yells in pain. He tries to punch the small creature, but it darts back to a save distance again. Avon is in trouble now. Both the wounds he sustained limit his efficiency in combat. Avon stops and waits for an opening. The Pentilian formation has closed behind him now, but none of them have thought of stabbing him in his back yet. "You''re done, demon!" The burned Pentilian laughs. "Just know it was general Yteral that beat you." Again Yteral darts forward, lunging his spear at on of the joints of Avon''s legs. Avon steps back and brings his axe down on Yteral''s spear, breaking it in half. Yteral drops the spear before Avon hits it and draws his sword. He cuts the other side of Avon''s waist. His back is now facing the Pentilian front line. Avon is panting now as he tries to find a way out of this situation. No options come to him. All he can do is stand and wait for an opening. Looking in the Pentilian''s eyes he can see years of experience in combat. The Pentilian knows exactly what he is thinking. Avon nods at Yteral and steps forwards, lifting his axe for an attack. The Pentilian looks slightly surprised and gets ready for his counter attack. Before Yteral can make a move, the Pentilian behind him stumbles backwards and falls into him, knocking him off balance. He tries to roll out of the way of Avon''s axe, but he soon realises the axe is never coming down on him. His ribs crack as the plated foot of Avon kicks him in the chest. Yteral coughs blood as a ribs pierces his lungs. "At least my soldiers can think up their own strategies." Avon says, bringing the axe down on Yteral''s neck. Shock and confusion fill the features on the disembodied head. Avon looks back at Jasmine nodding at her a second time now, to thank her for pushing the Pentilian. She is already too busy with the fight to notice him. The Pentilians moving around Avon freeze. There leader died? Panic fills there minds and their advance stops. Jasmine and the soldiers around her break through the Pentilian line and join Avon. "Advance!" Avon yells, charging into the cowering Pentilians. His wounds hurt, but he could deal with this pain for now. He had faced much worse. The Pentilians are losing ground rapidly. Confused and demoralised they begin their retreat. Even while they still outnumber the humans, their morale is shattered. "Back in line!" A voice booms across the field. Everyone is knocked of their feet by the sheer force of the order. Estaltas steps forward. "Reform the line!" He yells again, normally now. "We have the advantage here! Face them!" Estaltas organises some Pentilians into a secondary line. Other soon join around them. "They still regroup even when they were broken before?" Avon says. "These Pentilians really are something..." The two lines collide again, but now the Pentilians form a solid line. Avon and his men are quickly pushed back onto the docks. Only ten men hold the line now. Another five, including Harrack, have been completely separated. Avon hacks his way through Pentilian after Pentilian, but for every fallen Pentilian, another appears in his place. The human line holds, however, and, with Avon at it''s centre, it seems unbeatable. Then a rock impacts Avon''s chest plate and send him flying. Estaltas stands at the back of his line with another two rocks in his hands. With the enemy champion defeated, this battle should last long... A sword hacks down the Pentilian next to him. He looks up in shock to find a soaking him thrust a spear deep into his chest. He sputters and gurgles for a few seconds, before lying still. Jalles and his men have finally gotten in the enemies rear. Twenty fresh human soldiers charge the Pentilian flank. "Let''s finish this!" Jalles yells, leading the charge. Avon looks up. His head is spinning and a great crack runs through his plating. A dent marks the spot where the rick had hit him. Jasmine and three others are fighting a losing battle against too many. In the water, Harrack is making his last stand as he hacks and slashes around him. He needed to help them. He tries to move, but he can''t. He is weakened and, with his armour bend this way, he can''t move without shredding his chest. Hopelessly he looks as his forces slowly fall. A wave of panic goes through the Pentilian ranks. At the back of their lines many are breaking formation. Again they begin their retreat. Avon smiles. Jalles saved them. With this realisation, he faints.