The Voice of Death
Marius, a speaker, possesses the ability to bind any living creature to his command. Only those versed in the way of the iron heart such as the emperor and his royal Mastas, are able to withstand their compelling words. As barbaric forces march against the border city of Saint Mera, Mariues and his watchful Masta Mera are quickly sent to the city's defense as they heed imperial orders one final time.
Chapter 1
The freezing wind flew down from the cold mountains and over the top of snow-clad trees, only to clash against the high stone wall blocking the Woltu mountain pass and protecting the city of Saint Mera, though the locals still called the city by its old name, Blüsten. Marius stood at the top of the wall overlooking the mountain pass and the besieging army of savages that had gathered to reclaim their once-lost city, they wore mostly animal skin with a few spotting worn leather armor presumably taken off fallen foes. Skulls and bones of defeated enemies, animal or human, were worn as helmets which gave them a feral appearance as they waved their spears in the air or bashed their axes against their shields. They had come to fight so much was clear, no amount of gold or silver would send them back over the mountains this time. Marius dreaded the cold, even his new thick robes made of wolf-skin could not shield him as he stood there shaking, hoping the next great battle of the empire would take place somewhere warmer. He then felt a warm touch as Marja, his protector, placed a woolen blanket around his shoulders, little did it help but he thanked her for the gesture nonetheless.
Besides the distant roaring of the savages it was quiet, the city had been evacuated together with the town guard by the northern imperial army to a camp half a day's travel from the city. Now only Marja and Marius remained, it was safer that way. They stood at the top of the wall and had done so for hours awaiting the assault, but the savages had been wary of the lack of guards as they smelled a possible trap. Marius had his eyes on a group of well-dressed, or at least fully dressed, savages talking and gesturing for the past hour. They were likely the commanders of this army and, as far as Marius could see, consisted of five chieftains each of equal status. This resulted in bickering and the exchange of rude gestures as they tried to agree on a battle plan. These tribes always lacked central leadership Marius thought to himself, which had always led to their downfall in the past. But what they lacked in leadership they more than made up for in raw strength and fearlessness.
Finally, they seemed to agree on an approach as they blew their war horns, the sound was cast and returned from the mountain side echoing in the valley waking Marius from his trance. The savages sent forth their archers which came into sight and began to put on their bow strings. They were unfortunately still out of Marius' reach and so he could do nothing but watch as the archers prepared themselves. They unpacked their bowstrings from carefully packed pelt packages, protecting them from the unforgiving cold which would have otherwise frozen them stiff, and placed them on their well-carved and heavy longbows. Taller than a man these were and of petrified wood, hard as a rock. Yet the savages wielded them without trouble, of course, they were at least three heads taller than an imperial man themselves and at least twice as strong. Marius looked to Marja at his side standing tense and ready, her eyes fixated on the chieftain standing in front of the archers. The chieftain yelled something in his rough tongue and held up his ax, then a brief silence came upon the mountain pass as all on either side of the wall awaited his command. A brutish word echoed and the sound of a thousand arrows ensued.
Marius was impressed by the range of their archers as the arrows quickly closed in on their position, but just as the savages thought the arrows would hit their target they were stopped by Marja's tower shield. Made of true and tested imperial steel it stood once again between Marius and certain death. Marja stood in silence shielding them both waiting for the barrage to seize before once again stepping to the side. Never once did she meet Marius' gaze as in battle she was cold and calculating, this was the way of the Mastas, her face stone, her heart iron. Marius could almost feel the disappointment of the chieftains as they realized they had accomplished nothing but wasted arrows, nevertheless, they raised their weapons and with a roaring war cry sent their bloodthirsty soldiers into battle. Marius looked on in awe as the savages stormed towards the wall as feral beasts, some even running on all fours while others ran with crude ladders made of tree and bones, hoping to seize the wall. Marius stood perfectly still concentrating on the redwood pikes that Marja had placed in front of the wall the day before, marking the effective range of his voice. He waited until a good portion of the savages was well behind the pikes, a few ladders had even been clashed up against the wall. To his disappointment he could not spot any of the chieftains, they were most likely at the far back hoping their men would do most of the work, apparently leading by example was not part of their culture. He felt Marja standing uneasy as she drew her sword, they were beginning to come dangerously close it seemed. Marius took a deep breath and placed his hand upon his old beating heart, he opened his mouth and with an ungodly voice he yelled towards the savages.
"Die!”
The war cry suddenly died out as the savage's roaring charge had come to a full stop leaving only their echoes behind. The soldiers behind the red pikes stared in disbelief as their comrades fell to the ground without a sound. No wounds did mark their body, no blood did flow, they simply died in the blink of an eye, by the words of a speaker. The army stood uneasy in its tracks having never witnessed such magic, such power, soon the first savage started to walk backwards and Marius knew the battle was won. The army bolted no matter how much their chieftains screamed at them, leaving their fallen comrades in the cold snow behind them. Their dead eyes fixated on a wall they would never reach and a pale face of surprise. Marius had always taken comfort in the thought that the lives he took, were taken so fast that no man, woman, or child ever had the time to comprehend their situation, never had the time for regret or sorrow. He had always seen it as a peaceful death or at least he had convinced himself that it was. Marius shuddered and dragged the blanket closer as he began the descent of the wall with Marja quick to help him. He was always weak after such a spectacle though he had to admit that these past years his commands had left him weaker and weaker. He had always known such work, such words, would slowly strip away his breath and take his life at some point, but in his younger years, it had always seemed more like a frightening tale than the reality it truly was. He did not know how many more words he had in him and he had a feeling Marja knew this as well, she had been more attentive of late.
With their feet firmly planted on the ground once again, Marja left to get the horses ready. They would have to ride back to the army camp, and the generals, with the battle result as soon as possible. The generals would then hastily send a courier to the capital with news of victory, the Emperor was not a man known for his patience. Marius leaned up against the wall looking up at the gray sky, a storm was brewing. He hoped they would reach the camp in good time and avoid it, he couldn't wait to get his aging bones out of this dreadful cold. As a young man he had yearned for adventure oh how things had changed. Twenty years ago a victory such as today would have filled him to the brim with pride. Five years ago he would have felt naught but the weight of the lives he had taken, but now, now he only felt weak, tired, and cold.
The sun danced in the snow across the cold and barren land that was the empire's northern territories, the cold seethed deep into the bones of any foreigner not accustomed to the harsh and unforgiving environment. Frankly, Marius didn't understand why they'd taken these lands in the first place, they seemed more trouble than they were worth. Marius' steed, Boulta, winched as it made its way through the deep and treacherous snow. Though there, supposedly, laid a road beneath the thick layer of snow it was impossible to tell where. Roads had been the first thing the empire built when it took these lands, roads that nobody could find and thus couldn't use. It had been better had they built sleds like the locals, yet the empire heeded no advice from foreigners, even as they occupied their lands. Marius calmly padded Boulta and whispered to it inspiring and magical words, boosting its spirit and soothing its tired legs. Of course Boultas body had its limits and Marius tried not to push it too hard. Marja however had to push her horse forward without any such tricks, they were to return to the impatient generals as quickly as possible with news of their encounter, and so Marja had sat a hastened speed. The sun lit up the way back to the army base, but a storm followed close behind them, Marius could feel the cold northern wind pushing him in the back. As were it trying to push him back towards whence he came, a request Marius couldn't wait to oblige. He hoped that as soon as they delivered their message they would make their way back to the capital, the warm weather there was much more agreeable to him. Of course, he would not be allowed to stay in the capital itself, it was too dangerous to have speakers live beside so many people. No, he would be stationed at a small castle a few miles away from the capital, overseen by the Masta order of course. Though its quarters were more humble Marius would take them over these dreadful lands in a heartbeat.
"Do you think we'll leave for the capital come morrow?" asked Marius
"Yes, I plan to bring the emperor the news of our victory myself" answered Marja
She was still of the age where the emperor's approval meant all thought Marius, ambition and servitude lay deep in young Mastas. Marius should know, he had known quite a few. yet with age, this desire faded, though their outer appearance was always dutiful and unyielding. A Masta typically died quite young for this reason, though no one seemed to talk about it. Marius seldom saw Mastas older than 40 years. Still, he hoped Marja would live to be far older, either in the order or by escaping from it, however slim that chance would be.
"What will you do first when we return?"
"I'll go to the empero.." began Marja to repeat
"After that I mean"
Marja thought for a moment "A visit to the bathhouse"
"Ah a wonderful idea" agreed Marius, they hadn't had a proper bath in months. "I could live there for a month, just floating about with a cherry wine resting on my belly" smiled Marius
"We won't be home long" said Marja coldly "The enemies of the empire seldom linger"
"Oh but there are more speakers than me and more Mastas than you, I doubt a couple of weeks of wine and relaxation should see the empire crumble. Surely it doesn't rest on our shoulders alone" voiced Marius
"Alone or not, we'll go where we're needed" retorted Marja as she sent him a short glance, her eyes lit by the flame of the dutiful and the borderline fanatical. Marius sometimes forgot how young she really was, too young for jest. Still, he knew her words were colder than she intended, and though most of them were dismissive Marius kept talking, if a Masta wanted you to shut it they would simply tell you.
"Of course we will" said Marius in a soothing voice as the subject had run its course. It was a difficult game to get Marja to talk but a game he enjoyed playing.
"Interesting tactics deployed by these savages" began Marius innocently
Marja shrugged "They hadn't fought against a speaker before"
"It's a shame so many lives had to be lost" sighed Marius, though his consciences were not more than a whisper these days the numbing feeling of guilt still washed over him from time to time.
"THEY attacked us"
"Well the empire is partly to blame, we did take their lands in the first place"
"Liberated" corrected Marja
"I doubt the prisoners of war working in the mines would agree, or their war-torn families for that matter"
"They took up arms, they chose a side"
"When the choice stands between defending your home and succumbing to a foreign invader, then most don't see a choice at all"
"They lived in caves, Speaker" retorted Marja "Sacrificed their own people for a good harvest, turned against each other every chance they got. They were nothing but savages, yet we've brought them food, warm homes..."
"Roads?" jested Marius
"Stability" berated Marja "Some people are better off serving than ruling"
"I fear the emperor think that of all people but himself"
Marja suddenly stopped her horse and turned towards Marius "Don't say such things Speaker" In her eyes laid a mix of plea and threat. "I know you jest, but a Masta can never tolerate such spoken insolence, please take it back" Marja's hand fell to her sword handle.
Marius bowed his head "I apologize my dear Masta, a slip of the tongue"
Marja nodded and then steered her horse onward once more. A silence followed, Marius had become more careless in his older years. To criticize the Emperor, especially as a speaker, would usually cost your head. Though her voice sounded cold he knew she merely berated him out of worry, a colder Masta would have simply taken his head on the spot. As they rode for a few moments to the sound of the crumbling snow alone, Marius finally broke the silence again.
"Do you think they'll return?"
"Our job was to show them the true power of the empire, a display of force they'd never seen, meant to send them cowering" began Marja "But if they do return... It won't be as easy"
Marius nodded in agreement "How would you prepare Saint Mera for such future attacks"
"I would set up a permitter, hire locals and form them into a scout regiment having them run patrols 5 times a da..." a stream of ideas began to flow from Marja. Her eyes lid up when she talked about things like tactics and battle preparations, Marius smiled at her enthusiasm. He didn't much care for the subject itself, but the way she talked and the fire she spoke with, it was the most genuine version of Marja he would ever hear. So he simply fell back into his saddle and peaked his ears, as the words she spoke sent spiking chills of youthful passion through Marius' dried old bones and aching heart.
Chapter 2
Marius sat in front of the roaring fire warming his cold hide, many things could be said about the army but they made sturdy insulated tents. Marius could feel the warmth spreading through his fingers, which he was certain had been completely blue when they had reached the camp. The generals had quickly gathered and stood around a table filled with maps and tactical reports planning their next move, which they did rather loudly Marius noted. Marja stood among the generals offering advice in the upcoming campaign as her rank and title demanded of her. Marius on the other hand sat silently in the other corner of the tent near the fire as he often did, speakers such as himself had no say in military campaigns, politics, or really anything. He had been born with the gift of a speaker, his words could be said in such a manner that ordinary folk could do nothing but obey his command, and even their physical bodies could be affected. Of course, it took a great deal of practice to refine and specify one's words to carry such weight, but in time one could wield immense power.
Such a gift however had to be contained. The Emperor had his sacred order, the Mastas, searching every ounce of his empire for children born with such talents. Once they were found their life and words belonged to no one but the Emperor himself. He was both terrified and amazed by the powers of a speaker, for many years he had collected all the knowledge he could about them, what powers their words possessed, and of course which limitations they had. He then finally discovered that the way to resist the words of a speaker was to close your heart completely. By hardening the heart, showing and feeling no emotions at all, one would be able to resist the commands of a speaker. He called it the way of the iron heart, a skill he would teach only to those of whom he could expect total obedience. The Emperor soon realized such loyalty could only be bred into people who had never felt any hatred towards him. He then began to assemble his sacred order, consisting of orphans and children of nobles who had fallen out of grace. These younglings were taught the way of the iron heart, raised loyal and incorruptible, their allegiance owed to him and no one else. Their task was to fulfill his will by guiding the powers of his speakers toward the enemies of the realm. They were to protect the speakers against danger, but also serve as executioners should they refuse orders or betray the Empire in any way. Meaning they could never let their guard down, as any emotion could lead to a crack in their iron heart. A crack which a word might slip through, able to take their free will or even life. They became known as the order of the Mastas, each and every one of them willing to die for the Emperor. Their loyalty absolute as any sign of doubt in a protector was dealt with early and swiftly. Such a dangerous task did sprout awe and recognition among the common folk, though the nobles and high-ranking officers met them with jealousy and mistrust. Their profession left them somewhat emotionless and in most cases without much empathy, cold and calculating were the attributes most people recognized them by. Of course, such a responsibility also brought status, they were to serve as advisors in any capacity they could all over the realm as they were seen as an extension of the Emperor himself.
Marius looked at Marja as she tried to advise the old and proud army generals. They listened to her out of plight and fear, for to disrespect a Masta was to disrespect the Emperor. Yet their pride and ambitions forbade them to truly take her advice to heart. The Mastas' words, while often true, were also harsh and unyielding as they were only taught to advise not to persuade, their tone often sounded superior as they owed no one but the Emperor their respect. Her face was stone but Marius could tell she was annoyed, as her little finger twitched from time to time, listening to the generals argue over who would deal the final blow to the enemy and reap the glory. Marius did not envy her status and responsibilities today, though in his younger years he had been filled with jealousy and rage of his protector's rank. How he was not permitted to intervene in discussions or any decision-making at all, he could only look on as others made choices on his behalf. He first thought this grave disrespect was because of his young age, he was only ten summers old when he fought his first battle. Then he began to think it was the jealousy of his powers that made them vengeful and silenced him out of spite. In the end, he came to understand it was not jealousy or ambitions that made people treat him this way, it was simply fear, fear of what he might say to them, fear of losing their free will should they listen to even a single word. They saw him as nothing but a terrible weapon of the Emperor, constantly wary of his controlling capabilities. Still most did not pay him much attention as long as he kept his mouth shut and his Masta nearby. The only one who had ever spoken to him without fear had been his own mother, whose name and face he could no longer remember. His forty-one-year-long service to the emperor had left him old, tired, and filled with guilt about the things he had done in his service. The gift, or curse, of a speaker, had bought him nothing but cold isolation from his fellow man, a high price for such a voice. A voice that had mostly sent people to their graves or forcefully changed their minds. In truth, the only thing that kept him alive to this day were the few people he subtly got to know. His protectors, his captors, were the only ones whom he could speak to and who seemed to care for his well-being, at times even beyond their duties. Four protectors had he known throughout his life including Marja. Two of them had lost their lives in battle and though he mourned their deaths as fellow soldiers, he did not know them well enough to consider them friends. The third one, Lothar, became a valued friend. Regrettably so much so that he was sent away across the empire, ‘never become attached to your burden’ was the say of the Masta. He had learned since then that affection could never be shown in public, the Emperor had spies everywhere, and only on the battlefield when they were alone could it be permitted to exchange a tender moment, be it a smile or a simple friendly gesture.
Marja understood this as well, many things were unsaid between them and yet the situation was understood. they had a kind of unspoken language between them which Marius cherished, it seemed Marja was just as isolated as he was. A speaker was not permitted to have children and so he almost thought of her as his own daughter in some way. She was in her twenties, young, and despite her best efforts to appear old and wise, she was full of life and youthful vigor. Her red locks of hair were tightly braided in a usual Masta fashion, keeping them out of her eyes. Her continued training with a tower shield had left her muscular, which together with her height made her a terrifying figure in battle. Her scarred cheek had taken away some of her young maiden beauty though it did not seem to bother her at all, she wore her scars with pride. Marius did not know much of her past nor did she of his, it was a subject neither of them seemed willing to talk about. Mostly they discussed military tactics or fighting stances as such talks seemed to pique Marja's interest, while Marius was just happy for the conversation. She was assertive in the way she talked and quick to retort, her temperament even sometimes fell short which was highly unbecoming of a Masta, and her decisions were at times affected by empathy which was rather unusual. Marius found this tender heart locked behind iron walls most endearing, though sometimes he had to point out the cracks in her iron heart. Telling her to mend and harden it while at the same time hoping it wouldn't extinguish her empathic nature. It was painful to see her turn cold and distant each time he brought it up, but Marius knew that a less friendly speaker could take advantage of such cracks. Still, she seemed to value his input and Marius suspected that she might also see him as a kind of father figure, perhaps even a grandfather. Marius chuckled for himself, even though he was only forty-six he felt and looked like an eighty-year-old man. His white beard covered a wrinkled and scarred face, marked by battle and attempts on his life. Many had tried to cut out his tongue without luck, instead, they had taken pieces of his chin or nose with them instead.
For all their failed attempts it would have made no difference had they succeeded Marius thought. It is not the words themselves nor the sound they make that carry the speaker's power. The words were merely guiding tools for the speaker himself, to keep his heart and mind clear on the command he sends forth. Marius had even heard of a speaker who simply opened his mouth and without a sound worked his power through thought alone, though it seemed awfully dangerous as a thought was prone to change and one should never alter a command halfway. Such a mistake could have deadly consequences. So as long as the command came from the heart itself and the resonate of it reached the victim's body nothing else mattered. Many had tried and failed to block out his commands by covering their ears, even a deaf assassin had at one point been sent after him, all had fallen. Yet out of all the battles and of all the people who wanted him dead, it was still his words that had taken the largest toll on his body. An exchange had to be made each time he used his gift and he paid with precious time, which Marius wasn't too unhappy about. At least his duty to the Emperor was almost at an end as he couldn't command him in death, at least he hoped so. Though the atrocities he had committed weighed heavily on his soul, at times Marius feared the reckoning he would face when his body finally gave up. Even though most had been by command of the Emperor, some sins were his and his alone, for them he had no one to blame. Still, Marja's fate worried him more as he wouldn't be there to help and guide her. He hoped that the few things he could teach her would protect her against the next speaker she would be assigned to.
The general's squabble was suddenly interrupted by a scout breaching the tent flaps, letting in a cold mountain wind that tried its best to extinguish the flames in the fire pit. He quickly fell to his knees in front of the generals trying to recover his breath, they all waited nervously for the scout to deliver his message.
“The..." gasped the scout "The outpost at the eastern mountain pass sire.. it has fallen!”
“But the eastern pass is completely barred by ice and snow, the pass is impassable in the winter!” exclaimed a general.
The scout looked at him with eyes full of fear “They found a way, sire”.
A silence spread around the table as nervous looks were exchanged “That means they have a clear way into Saint Mera, avoiding the wall, it seems the siege was a mere distraction”, mumbling started between the generals.
“Send troops straight to the eastern pass and intercept them” said Marja in a stern voice.
A general shook his head “They wouldn't make it in this weather, besides, most of our troops are already on their way to Saint Mera escorting the citizens”
Another general studied the terrain maps “If they go straight through the woods they'll reach the city before our escort does…”.
Marja looked at the maps seeing the bleakness of their situation “If you had not camped out so far away from the city we could have been there in time” she said spitefully to the logistic general.
“I will not let my men be in the harm's way of a speaker, no one knows how far his voice can be carried up here” said the general in his defense. Marja ignored the general's retort and stared at the map in silence.
“The city of Saint Mera is lost" she finally said with a cold voice, "inform the troops to escort the citizens back to camp and send word to the capital of this defeat”. Again silence fell upon the generals around the table, informing the Emperor of defeat was a death sentence. He did not tolerate the stench of failure in his army, especially in the ranks of his officers.
“A small band could ride to the city in half the time” one general noted, “The speaker might intercept the savages right at the outskirts”.
Marja showed no emotion yet her little finger did twitch once more “The speaker is tired from fighting your battles, he needs at least a few days rest or such a ride could kill him”.
The generals glanced at Marius “Well be as it may what is the life of a single speaker against the city of Saint Mera”.
Marja looked at the general with eyes that could kill “That is not for you to decide”.
The general stood uneasy, faced with Marja's unyielding stare “Then you can deliver the news to the emperor personally, but I don’t think he values your speaker as highly as you do”.
Marius cleared his throat forcing the eyes of the tent upon him, a few generals had already unsheathed their swords ready to strike him down should he speak. Marius calmly waved Marja towards him, the Masta told the generals to put away their swords as she walked over to him, the generals looked on impatiently as Marius and Marja whispered among themselves so softly only they could hear. Finally, Marja turned once again towards the generals, her heart iron, her face stone, only her voice showed a bit of weariness.
“Saddle our horses”.
Chapter 3
Marius rested upon a boulder facing the treeline, one hour they had waited so far, such haste for nothing he thought to himself. They had nearly killed their horses trying to reach the city in time, only to be stuck waiting for the enemy. Marius usually didn't mind the waiting before a battle, but in this cold weather every hour felt like days and he was still wary from yesterday's fight. Luckily the eye of the storm was the city of Saint Mera, the sky above him was orange as days this far north were a bit shorter. Marja had not said a word to him since they left the army camp, it seemed she was not happy with his decision, but she knew as well as he that in reality, they had little choice but to fight. A speaker avoiding battles was as problematic as a rebellious one, the emperor dealt swiftly with either type, which meant death or worse for Marius and disgrace for Marja. He would never let that befall her as the chance of reclaiming the lost grace of the Emperor was near impossible, so much so that most chose an early end to their life over a disgraceful existence. Marja had placed her tower shield up against the boulder providing some shelter for Marius while she sharpened her broad sword, Marius tried to think of something to say but ironically enough no words came to mind.
"We shouldn't be here" said Marja suddenly, it almost startled Marius as she never initiated a conversation, she usually just gave orders.
"Well the enemy is on their way here, so I'd say we are right where we'd suppose to be" said Marius as she shuttered before a cold wind.
"They know what you can do now" continued Marja "The second skirmish is always more dangerous, we shouldn't be here alone"
"Alone or not, we'll go where we're needed" recited Marius with a smile on his lips, though Marja didn't seem to appreciate his humor. Marius sighed "The Emperor won't accept the loss of a city easily my dear Masta, he knows the fear of his wrath keeps defeat at bay"
"I'm not suggesting capitulation!" retorted Marja angrily "Just... rest and regroup, you are not young, speaker"
Marius couldn't help but smile at her worry "I know my dear Masta, yet any kind of retreat is not favored by the Emperor, as I recall he said such cowardly display does not serve the Empire proper".
"The Empire is better served with a living speaker than a hole in the ground like Saint Mera"
"A young speaker perhaps" noted Marius "Not one near the end of his life"
"Don't say that" snapped Marja and she briefly stopped sharpening her sword, her little finger twitching. "I.." began Marja but then paused and composed herself "the Emperor still has need of you and you'll not die before I allow it"
"As you command dear Masta" said Marius, though a fleeting promise he hoped he could keep it.
The wind howled in the mountain pass shifting the top of the trees as the sun slowly set above the valley. As the last glimpse of sunbeams vanished over the horizon a war horn blared against the mountainsides, waking Marius who had nearly dozed off. Near the tree line, a whole army of savages started to appear almost completely whitened by snow. Marja stood ready with both sword and shield in hand, she had most likely seen movement in the forest before the horn sounded. Marius stood up from the boulder and took a few steps forward trying to see the red pikes Marja had placed for him. Sadly they had been completely covered by snow and with the light slowly vanishing it was impossible to spot them, he would simply have to go with his gut this time. The horn sounded once again and Marius half expected a barrage of arrows coming their way, Marja seemed to be of the same thought and had raised her shield ready to block. But instead of arrows, countless savages sprung from the tree line white as snow and silent as the wind they charged without roar or war cry. With weapons and shield in hand they ran towards Marius with a surprising speed, Marius placed his hand upon his heart and took a deep breath once again.
"Die" he commanded dry and unrelenting, the savages all fell to the ground as silently as they had charged. All except for one, a man wearing a wolf pelt kept running towards him with a deadly look in his eyes and an iron heart.
Marja sprung into action intercepting the savage before he reached Marius, her tower shield clashing against his wooden one. As they fought Marius could do nothing but stare, he had not known of anyone besides the Masta or the Emperor himself able to withstand the commands of a speaker. Perplexed he looked on the deadly battle between the two iron hearts, it seemed these savages knew more than they led on. A careless swing from the pelt-wearing savage gave Marja an opening as she jammed her tower shield up into his jaw, which sent him staggering back. Before he could compose himself Marja had sunk her sword deep into his stomach, the savage gurgled countless foreign curses as he sunk defeated to the ground. As he laid in agony Marja let her tower shield fall on his neck and he fell silent, Marja breathed heavily as the fight had not been easy. Marius looked towards the treeline ready to face another wave of savages yet they merely stood in silence watching their fallen brothers, for a moment Marius hoped they would retreat but instead a single man stepped forth.
A thin man wearing nothing but a loin cloth and a helmet made out of a reindeer skull and antlers slowly stepped out of the tree line. Despite the pale man's lack of cloth he did not seem to mind the cold as he began to walk towards them. In his hand he held a spear which he clung to, like an old man to his staff. After a few steps, he stopped to place the spear in the frozen ground before him, without trouble Marius noted, and began to pray with his hands still firmly on the spear shaft. Marius tried his best to listen for the old man's words, but it almost seemed like the man was whispering directly into the spear as if telling it a secret. Marius had not seen such a peculiar ritual like that before but then again he hadn't spent too much time in the north. He glanced at Marja who Marius, in despite of her stone face, could tell was just as perplexed as she loosened her otherwise tightly grip around her sword. A few minutes passed and the man finally pulled the spear out of the ground as easily as he had put it there. He then positioned himself with the spear behind and over his head, as to measure the distance.
“He can't throw it that far can he?” mumbled Marius quite uncertain.
Suddenly the thin man threw his spear far and fast toward them. Thrown high because of the distance Marius could easily follow the spear's projection towards them, almost spellbound he followed the spear as it flew closer and closer. As Marius wavered from side to side it almost seemed like the spear followed him, though he was almost certain his eyes were playing tricks on him. Marja positioned herself and the tower shield once again between Marius and danger. With the spear a few moments between them he waited for the sound of clashing metal, the sound of deflection, yet he heard nothing. Instead, sunbeams hit his eyes as they could suddenly see the sundown sky through Marja's shield, through a little round hole. His trembling hand raised hoping to rest upon his heart but found naught but a hollowed spot, red by the blood of an old man. Marja looked on in both horror and surprise as Marius slowly collapsed revealing the spear, which had sunk halfway through the boulder behind him. Only the mountain had stopped it in its path. Marja threw her shield away as she fell to Marius' side, trying to stop the bleeding only to realize it was futile. The red blood spread quickly in the snow around him, her face stone, her heart iron, yet her left eye did twitch as she held him. The savage's war horn blared once more and the sound of war cries filled the air as they charged towards the city, across the barren frozen field wielding axes and spears, ready to take back their long lost city. Marja sat unfazed by the sound of death storming towards her as she held Marius in her arms, her face teary, her heart glass. She felt the life slowly leave him and knew not what to say so she wept in silence. Marius raised his hand to wipe away her tears with a reassuring smile, he needed no words from her, in her eyes he saw every joy, regret, and tender moment they had shared.
Marius waved her closer and as she put her ear towards him he placed his hand upon her heart, his dying breath left his body through a whisper
"Live..."
