NaNoWriMo 2017 - Day 1

Bimley told himself that he was shaking so badly because of the cold. It certainly wasn’t the terror of the upcoming battle. No, certainly not. And this fog that had suddenly rolled in out of the previously clear night was not ominous at all. He was a man who had been conscripted to fight for his lord before, not some peach fuzz faced boy awaiting his first battle. Still, he had never had to face anyone like her before. The rumors about her where just lies her grandfather spread to scare good men into joining his stupid kingdom…weren’t they? He heard a faint clang from somewhere in the mist, out on the flat plains across from the moat.

“Did you hear that?” Bimley hissed to the soldiers next to him on the wall.

“Hear what?” Fred asked nervously. “I didn’t hear nothing. Is she coming?”

“Will you two shut it?” grizzled old Tom snapped. Tom didn’t seem unnerved by the prospect of an attack from the Warwitch of West Wending. Then again, Tom had been sneaking swigs out of his flask for the better part of an hour so he could just be drunk.

Bimley heard another soft clang, closer this time. It was so quiet, if she was attacking why couldn’t he hear the thousands of rabid monsters in her army stomping across the glen? He couldn’t see anything in this fog. Nerves frayed to the breaking point, he gripped his spear tighter.

“How long ago did the fog roll in?” A deep voice behind them made Bimley nearly jump out of his skin and he definitely peed just a tiny bit.

They all spun to see a mountain of a man made all the more imposing by his spiked plate armor. Baron Helshire was the one who had gathered everyone here at Kilgrey Gap to try and break the tide of the Warwitch’s unrelenting conquest of the Brawgreen Isles. Bimley was proud that his lord was among these final heroes here on Vermatt Isle who had resisted her and her wicked grandfather. They were the last free men of the Isles and they bowed to no one, certainly not some fool old king on Raltattan Isle whom they had never even met.

“Less than half an hour ago, I’d say, m’lord,” Bimley answered, perking up a bit at the sight of their commander. Baron Helshire had never lost a battle and was a demon of a duelist. If anyone could put an end to that West Wending freak, it was him.

The baron considered this. Then he removed helm and cocked his head to listen to the foggy silence. Bimley did the same and thought he could just barely make out footfalls.

“Trying to sneak up on me?” Baron Helshire roared suddenly and Bimley hoped no one heard him yelp when he jumped in surprise. “Ha! I thought you had more honor than that, girl!”

Bimley strained his eyes to see if she really was there in the fog. Then he saw her, Cassidy Ryncaster, the Warwitch of West Wending herself. She wasn’t as tall as Bimley had thought she would be. Then again, she could hardly have been ten feet tall with a scaly and six inch long fangs as the rumors claimed. In fact, thirty-five feet down and across the moat as she was, the Warwitch hardly looked impressive at all. Bimley began to feel better about their chances. Baron Helshire would crush this foolish girl and Bimley could get back to his farm and hopefully convince Marta to marry him before the summer harvest took up all his courting time.

The slow, cold laughter that floated up from the Warwitch set Bimley’s knees immediately quivering again. “Dear, dear mother-cousin you wound me,” Cassidy called back. Bimley gulped, he had never heard that the Warwitch was the daughter of Baron Helshire’s cousin. What did that mean? Surely the baron wanted nothing to do with her even if they were kin. He was the one who had organized this massive defense, after all.

Cassidy continued, “You have fought well this past year. Vermatt should have fallen months ago, but you’ve been an ever-present thorn in my side. Always turning up where I least expect with some clever ambush. Hell, from what I hear you’ve managed to get nearly every fighting man left on the isle behind those walls and all their lords sworn to obey you. Why not enjoy the fruits of your heroism? Name yourself Archduke of Vermatt Isle and let your men live in peace. You’ll rule them as you see fit, I’ll make sure grandfather offers you special terms. I’d say you’ve earned it and you have some distant royal ties through my mother. How does Archduke Helshire sound in those great hairy ears of yours?”

To a man, every soldier on the wall turned to look at the baron. His craggy, scarred face frowned down at the Warwitch. After what seemed an eternity, he spoke, “I promised these men they would bow to no king and that promise will be kept until I draw my last breath! Vermatt – free and true forever!” He roared and then slammed his helm back onto his head.

The Warwitch regarded him for a moment and then shook her head. “So be it,” she called back.

Bimley heard the scraping of her twin swords as she drew them from the sheaths on her back. There was a red stone in the pommel of each that began to glow bright red. Fire godstones. Bimley cursed under his breath. He had been hoping that if the rumors about her tail had been false then so would this one. The swords were remnants of the fallen Halcyon Empire when pagans had corrupted the beauty of the holy godstones into weapons. As the godstones’ heat flowed into them the blades began to glow red hot as though fresh from the forge, but the legends of the Halcyon swords said they would remain hard and sharp instead of becoming pliable as normal steel did at that temperature, the fiery metal were said to be able to slice into stone and armor like an axe chopping wood.

The fog around Cassidy took on an eerie orange glow from her swords. She planted her feet wide and then raised her arms. The ground rumbled below her and the earth began to undulate and heave like a stormy sea. Slowly, the Warwitch began to rise on a pedestal of dirt and stone as she used her earth godstone to create a pillar that was nearly ten feet high by the time Bimley recovered enough from his terror to hear Baron Helshire bellowing at the archers to open fire.

Arrows clanged harmlessly off of the Warwitch’s armor. It did not look nearly as thick as the baron’s heavy plate, but her armor was supposed to have been forged in the fires of hell by some devil she had pressed into her service. Her pillar of earth rose until she was level with the top of the wall. The moat was still between them, she couldn’t possibly jump that gap…could she? Bimley glanced nervously over at Baron Helshire. He had drawn his massive greatsword and had his eyes fixed on the Warwitch, waiting for her next move. Bimley did his best to stamp down his fear and did the same.

As he turned his eyes back to her, the Warwitch bent into a crouch and threw her arms down as she leapt. A blast of air – did she have godstones from all four elements?!? – sent debris spinning from her pillar as she threw herself into the twenty foot gap that separated her from Bimley.

She was flying! Glorious Savior and the Four Saints above, she could fly! She really was a witch! This time the stream of urine shooting down his leg was more than just a bit. He was going to die! He would never get to see Marta naked.

Then Cassidy began to fall, she wasn’t going to make it! The Warwitch dipped below the crenellations and out of Bimley’s sight. Evidently she couldn’t fly after all. Bimley heaved a sigh of relief. Tom was throwing up on Fred’s boots. Evidently the whiskey had been a bad idea to combine with the stress of thinking the Warwitch could fly. Baron Helshire did not look relieved at all though. He leaned forward to glance down towards the moat. Bimley did the same and his eyes bulged in shock.

Cassidy had burned her Halcyon blades into the side of the wall and was hanging about five feet below them. The baron readied his greatsword so Bimley leveled his spear and tried not to think about how sweaty his palms had become. The Warwitch planted her feet on the wall and kicked off. As she did Bimley could feel another blast of air and he saw the momentum of the gust fling her all the way around so that her feet crashed into Baron Helshire’s chest. The move had obviously caught him off guard, because he hadn’t had time to bring his sword down on her.

Bimley had assumed that she had been planning to claw her way up by wrenching one sword free at a time, relying on her armor to shield her from attacks as she used her devil blades to scale the wall, but he had been so very wrong. Now he was face to face with the most deadly warrior in the Isles. She had two magic swords and at least two additional godstones. He had a pointy stick…good thing his bladder was now empty.

“I-I-I’m warning you!” Bimley stammered. “Stay back!” He pointed his spear at her chest.

The Warwitch cocked her head to the side quizzically. Bimley hadn’t even seen her ram one of her Halcyon swords through Baron Helshire’s breastplate. His commander was dead. Behind her Fred and Tom had both thrown down their spears and fled. Across the moat Bimley finally noticed the army approaching through the fog. Massive siege towers rumbled forward with men carrying ladders hidden behind them. None of the archers were paying any attention to the attacking army though, all eyes were on the Warwitch and Bimley.

Cassidy Ryncaster brought her sword around in a lazy backhand and Bimley shut his eyes tight.