Dae’lith (1)

Though the days passed in a hasty manner for Markus and Quinn, Julia's night against the fallen was anything but swift.

Atop the monolithic stone wall of the Dragon Gate, her chest rose in panting breaths as sweat fell from her brow, the twin swords in her hands dyed red in blood as she crouched on all fours.

There had been some fundamental misunderstanding of the Hasshan mindset in their plan. Even after turning their bows and blades against their neighbors, the Hasshan did not retreat to a nearby settlement, but fought with even greater zeal, taking a nearby hill as a defensible location to survive the night.

Meanwhile, the ghouls, with their metal-like claws, scaled the sheer stone wall with ravenous growls and depressed, human eyes, while four of those horned Dae'lith monitored the battlefield from the rear, sending twisted arrows at any who caught their attention.

Those arrows did not miss.

Swallowing in an attempt to wet her dry throat, Julia crawled a bit closer to the edge of the wall, stabbing her slender sword down into the head of a climbing Ghoul before retreating to where she had been earlier.

Everyone atop the wall was crouched down like her, trying to stay out of sight from the Dae'lith, letting the Hasshan attract their attention first. That was the plan, but it was certainly not perfect. One of those elongated arrows, designed like an instrument of cruelty, shot towards the top of the wall where they'd all crouched down out of sight. It flew through the stone—making contact with nothing, like an intangible spirit—before emerging to take the life of a man next to Julia.

He died without uttering a sound as his veins ran black—and as he fell to the ground, the arrow dissolving to nothing, the sounds of suppressed panic rang out everywhere atop the wall. Suppressed, because they had to be quiet, it was the only way they could listen for the ghouls that scaled the wall and ready themselves to crawl forward and dispatch them quickly.

It was the strangest, most terrifying battle she had ever taken part in, but Duke Terrath's Keeper's insisted that if they held out until dawn, things would change. The sun was holy, it was the eye of Netarr, the eldest of the Six Divines, and the dead could not bear his gaze without fear.

The scratching sound of claws piercing stone caught her ears, and after sharing a gaze with those by her side, Julia risked crawling forward once more to dispatch a ghoul. Peaking over the edge of the wall, she found the creature right below her, pointed claws stabbed into stone as it scaled, its disturbing eyes meeting hers.

Without delay, she stabbed down at the creature, but with a surprisingly swift motion, it freed one hand of the stone wall to grab the blade, tugging it downward. Panicked at the delay and praying to the gods she was not seen by the Dae'lith below, Julia jerked her weapon about, slicing the ghoul's hand, but the creature felt no pain, letting go only when the hand was too injured to clench.

Raising her now free sword high, she stabbed down once more, the thin blade piercing the monster between the eyes. As its grip loosened and the ghoul fell from the wall, she hastily scrambled back to hide out of sight of the fallen army, yet as she did, her eyes wandered of their own accord to that one spot in the battlefield that held everyone's focus—the one spot those four leaders of the dead had made their own and never moved from.

Spiraling horns twisting from the sides of a jawless skull, two more straight, imperious horns rising from empty eye sockets to point at the sky above. Though it had no eyes, Julia knew that one of those four dreadful commanders had turned its gaze to her, and as she saw the Dae'lith lift its bow hand, a pervasive sense of defeat numbed her mind.

'So this is it.' The huge bow in that dead hand never missed a shot. No cover could impede its path. She was going to die.

Then, something unexpected happened. She watched on as the Dea'lith threw its white bow to the ground—dust rising as the heavy weapon crashed—before taking a slow step forward.

And just like that… It vanished.

It blurred and vanished, appearing a hundred meters closer as it took another step.

The brief moment of numb dread vanished as adrenaline surged with the prickling of hairs standing on end. Her mind now sharp and alert, she shouted, "Dae'lith on the move! It's coming!"

It vanished again in a strange blur, and when it reappeared it was standing on the sheer side of the stone wall, parallel to the ground below as if gravity held no sway on its movements. Her eyes widened even as others peaked over the stone wall, shouts echoing throughout their army.

It took another step, and blood fountained tens of meters to her right. It was atop the wall, a blade as long as it was tall—that is half again another man's height—bisecting a soldier with a one-handed blow.

Its gaze was on her.

Bearing her two red-veined swords, Julia shot to her feet and took a stance as she returned its eyeless gaze. In her mind, she pictured the Gallery of War and gradually adopted the mindset of a swordmaster. One breath at a time, her hands steadied and her thoughts stilled, trepidation losing its grip on her nerves.

Like that, she ceased to be the human named Julia.

She was a weapon.

The skeletal figure took another slow step, disappearing before the swords of others could reach it, and a golden-red aura exploded from Julia's frame as she struck forth, the dauntingly tall Dae'lith appearing before her.

Its long white blade in stark contrast with its flowing black robes swung in a huge arc that she deflected with hasty movements, the force of the blow sending a shock through her arms. It should have been impossible to swing such a long sword in one hand and not falter in grip, balance, or control, but the Dae'lith seemed to deny such restrictions, as if the sword were part of itself.

The sounds of metal scraping assaulted the ears as she exchanged one blow after another with the horned corpse, the Dae'lith relentlessly offensive in its actions, and Julia constantly stepping back in her defense.

Ducking under a horizontal swing of her foes blade, she stepped in to slash at its torso, but even as she did, its free hand reached for her. That pale, skeletal hand, like bleached bone, carried a stale scent that triggered every instinct in her being.

'Evade.'

Abandoning her attack, she threw herself to the side, rolling out of the Dae'lith reach and regaining her footing just in time to block a heavy strike of its greatsword. That heavy strike forced her back a meter as shock strained her arms.

Others atop the wall moved to aid her, and more still approached from the further reaches of the wall to reinforce her men. Spears and swords stabbed and slashed at the Dae'lith as Don's loud voice echoed over the sounds of battle.

"Come on you cowardly louts, which of you has the guts to slay a myth with me?" And "You going to let a woman do the fighting for you? Then sit aside and watch our backs!"

Red faced men attacked with greater ferocity than ever, their pride trampling fear under his direct example.

The aid gave Julia enough time to breath, but the Dae'lith moved with the speed and grace of a Grand Knight, reaping lives with each arcing swing of its oversized sword. Even those who got off with shallow wounds soon fell dead to a horrid curse-like poison, their veins running black.

Worse still, its free hand, like a striking viper shot towards those caught off guard, palm strikes driving a strange, stale miasma into their bodies.

As she and the others fought on, those struck by the Dae'lith's pale hand opened up and took horrid forms with gaping maws of teeth running down their front: Ghouls.

Even with all her training, that shook the calm of battle within Julia's heart. "Don! I need you to organize the men—" She cut off as the Dae'liths blade swept close, her whole body moving in a flexible dodge most could not pull off as her swords guided the attacking weapon away.

"Get them in a shield wall, surround it!" She struck back as she spoke, her blade drawing graceful arcs and thrusting lines. It bled black blood, apparently not skeletal beneath the robes.

After another few exchanges, she managed to move past the Fallen's guard, but as she struck again, it stepped back, having just enough time to fade out of sight, reappearing two steps out of her range.

"Orsen, you and your men deal with those turned Ghoul and any climbing. We can't worry about hiding from those below anymore."

Men moved in every direction as the two lieutenants shouted orders, Don in a loud and mocking way that stirred the spirits, Orsen in a manner that projected total calm and control of the situation.

'All of my lieutenants lead very differently' The thought was strangely calm and out of place in this horror-like situation, but it made her smile nonetheless. It seemed to her that Markus had succeeded, she already considered Don one of her staple lieutenants.

Rings of infantry began to surround the Dae'lith, long spears and wide shields forming a steel wall of stabbing death that trapped the creature. Every time it tried to break the encirclement, its heavy swings throwing the shield men off balance, Julia—trapped in that ring of spears with it—attacked relentlessly, giving the commander of the dead no time to do as it wished.

When it lashed out at her instead, she fell back, giving the spears freedom to stab in defence of her this time.

Every spear thrust through those robes black as night drew blood, and unlike the Ghouls, the Dae'lith might have actually felt pain with how it flinched. Despite that, it still moved as healthily as ever, and even the best placed strikes were to no lethal effect.

"Captain!" Orsen called over the cacophony. "Something's happening beyond the wall."

Julia clenched her teeth as she fought on. There was barely freedom enough to give short orders in the midst of her deadly exchange, trying to hold a conversation would be impossible.

"Unless another of these things leaves their place on the battlefield, I trust you to deal with it."

As she backed off, her eyes flicked towards Orsen for the briefest of moments to take in his expression. Still calm and absent of fear, but that meant nothing when it came to this man, he would die with a plain expression. It was his scrutinizing eyes and a lack of shock that ensured her she could leave it to him, whatever it was.

Her eyes returned to the Dae'lith, after the briefest of distractions, her arms already moving to intercept the attack she thought would come, but instead, all she saw was a blur.

In her negligence, she had given it enough freedom to reposition in that strange way, as now it stood a distance away, outside the encirclement.

"Hurry an—"

"A good response for one who knows little of my kind, but it is clear to me now."

The voice that interrupted her was ambiguous, like multiple overlapping voices speaking as one, sourceless and haunting the air.

'Was that… the Dae'lith?'

"You can speak?" She asked in a surprisingly calm voice.

"Indeed, it would seem your kind has forgotten much, today I have confirmed this."

A huge man pushed his way to Julia's side as another company reinforced her men, Byron the Tower, a Grand Knight of Marquis Laverin's army.

The Dae'lith went on. "There is one more suspicion I have about your kind." Despite a lack of eyes, she felt it was staring at her. "Have you truly become so weak?"

The bone white blade in its hand dimmed, becoming a sleek black that absorbed the light.

"We'll find out."