Plumes of smoke curled up from the green valley. Orange flames spread quickly between the cluster of buildings and great funnels of black soot blotted out the sun. Waka was close now. He might still be in time to save some of the people.
“That’s far enough,” a figure garbed in an old forester’s uniform stepped from the bushes nearby, quickly joined by four others. “There’s a toll to pass this way, though, I ain’t sure why you would, seeing as there’s only a burning village down there.”
Waka followed his nod down at the burning buildings and felt irritation prickle inside. “Step aside,” he grumbled.
“And we will, once you hand over your coin,” the leader added, with a glint in his eye.
“You’re the third band of rogues to accost me this morning,” Waka reached for the hood of his cloak.
The man gave a mock bow. “Well, for that I must apologize. A man such as yourself should only be waylaid by the finest of bandits on a morning like this. The name is Toller Hobbes, and I lead such bandits. We would have gotten to you earlier, but old Gerrard over there really does struggle to get up in the mornings these days.”
An old man who was clearly Gerrard moved forward with a theatrical limp and nodded his head. “It’s my aching joints you see, nothing a few silvers wouldn’t help though, sir, if you’d be so kind.”
Waka sighed. “I don’t have time for this,” he swept back the hood of his cloak and looked at the men standing around him.
Despite the aching joints, Gerrard managed to drop to his knees fast enough. He was quickly followed by Toller and two others, leaving a young lad standing there with his bow half drawn and a puzzled look slapped across his face.
“What’s going on?” the boy asked.
“Get on your knees, boy,” Toller hissed.
“Don’t you know who that is?” Gerrard’s voice wavered.
“No. Why…should I?” the lad looked about as comfortable as a mule in a jousting tourney, and fidgeted with his bow string.
“That’s only Waka Spiritblade, the greatest summoner in all the lands,” Gerrard grabbed at the boy’s arm, trying to pull him down to the ground. “Apologies, mi’lord, he’s only young and doesn’t know any better.”
Waka waved an impatient hand. “There are people that need me, and you’re slowing me down.”
“Of course, mi’lord,” Toller bowed even lower to the ground. “Gerrard, get that fool of a boy on his knees.”
The old man tackled the lad to the ground and held him there whilst Waka moved through them.
“If you want to make yourselves useful, then meet me at Evergrove in three days’ time,” Waka said.
“Is that the large town between the Wild Woods and Pitchfork River?” Toller asked.
“It is,” Waka replied without looking back. “And bring anyone else you find skulking in the bushes on your way.”
With that, Waka ran down into the valley, hopeful that he might be able to find any survivors in the inferno that raged through the village down below..
Toller had never seen so many soldiers before. It was like a colony of ants swarming over a rotten piece of meat. Chaos Legion soldiers overflowed from Evergrove, they were everywhere. He glanced over his shoulder at the ragtag band of convicts, bandits and deserters he’d managed to rally using Waka’s name over the last three days. There were about a hundred of them waiting behind where he stood, hiding within the forest. It had seemed like a lot before he saw the Chaos Legion. They wouldn’t make a dent in the forces before them.
“Penny for ‘em?” Gerrard shuffled up beside him.
“Obvious ain’t it,” Toller pointed. “There’s more soldiers over there than in the Drybone Palace.”
“Hundred’s a good number. A strong number.”
Toller saw movement in the treeline, the sun glinting on swords and axes. “Still, it won’t be enough. Most of this lot are best at running away, fighting’s always been a last option and even that was when the odds of winning were high.”
“Bah,” Gerrard punched him on the shoulder. “You’re a miserable sod. And you don’t do ‘em justice, some of these boys have really fought before. Anyway, it’s different now.”
“How do you figure?”
“They’re fighting for Praetoria,” he sighed. “And their families.”
Toller hawked and spat. “There is that I s’pose.”
Gerrard gripped his arm. “But more than that, they’re fighting with Waka.” The sun caught the hope in his eyes and twinkled brightly. “We’re all fighting with Waka. There’s no way we can lose.”
“Your enthusiasm'salmost contagious, old friend,” Toller shared a sad smile. “But where is he?”
Folding his arms across his chest and putting on his best cavalier pose, Gerrard nodded his head at Evergrove. “Use your eyes lad, he’s right in front of you.”
Waka felt his anger grow with every step. These insolent people thought they could just invade his land, kill his people, and nothing would happen. That they could destroy every village, town, and city they came upon and there would be no reprisal. They were wrong. Today would be the beginning of the end for them. Today would be the day that the people learned of Waka’s return.
He slipped his arms from the cloak and let it fall behind him. Each step brought him closer to Evergrove and the Chaos Legion forces that amassed within. The cool breeze touched his skin where the bones and horns of the creatures he had hunted as a child had been embedded in his body. Lifting the skull of his ancestor that hung from his belt, he carefully placed it upon his head. Power filled him, tracing electric blue lines of mana along the tattoos across his body. The eyes within the twin gold skulls of his amulet glowed, their mouths frozen open in deadly smiles. He was the Spiritblade once again.
A shout from a sentry near the entrance to the town brought soldiers running, and soon there was an entire squad facing Waka.
“Whoever you are, this town is under control of the Chaos Legion, by order of General Eldigan. Draw no weapon. You are now our prisoner. You will surrender immediately.”
Waka laughed. It started as a small tickle in the back of his throat that quickly took hold of him with an infectious grip, until it could be heard rolling across the hills and grassland beyond, a joyous cacophony that danced and lifted his spirits.
“One of you will be fortunate enough to see tomorrow. I give you that gift, so that you can pass on that I have returned. Your people will learn to fear me. Where I walk, you will flee. Where I fight, you will die. Go back to your world, and leave Praetoria in peace. My name is Waka Spiritblade. I have spoken.”
The light radiated from his body, long trails of it moving and shifting into deadly blades of mana. The soldiers standing before him drew their weapons. There was no fear or uncertainty amongst them, but then, he hadn’t shown them his true power yet. As they charged, Waka closed his eyes, feeling the intensity of his power growing, pushing against the confines of his body, begging to be released. The sounds of their shouts echoed in his mind, and as they grew closer, he slowly opened his eyes, drawing an arm across his chest. The blade of pure mana on his arm sliced through all but one of them. That one survivor was pulled within a tubular prison of pure energy and lifted up into the air.
“Now you will see what will become of your pitiful army!” Waka clenched his fists as the anger twisted his face.
Crouched amongst the long grass, Toller watched Waka destroy the enemy squad with one single sweep of his arm. “Did you see that?” he gasped.
“I did, lad,” Gerrard gave a hoarse whisper beside him. “They didn’t stand a chance.”
“But that was just a handful of them. Look now, they’re all coming out. He’ll be swarmed by them.”
Gerrard stood, drawing his claymore. “Then we’d better get down there and help him.”
Toller nodded and joined him. Turning to the men and women concealed within the treeline behind, he lifted his sword into the air. “We have been bandits, hiding in the forests and mountains. We have been thieves, stealing from honest travelers so that we might feed our families. Now we can be something different. Now, because of Waka Spiritblade, we can be heroes.” Some of the bandits he’d recruited started to emerge from the trees as Toller continued. “He stands down there alone, against a tide of chaos. Who’ll stand with him and see that this enemy doesn’t take another town or kill another soul?”
The cheers sent a shiver down his spine and set a fire burning in his gut, as more of the bandits stepped from the woods, waving their weapons in the air and adding to the rapturous shouts.
“Follow me! Follow Waka!” Toller shouted as he started across the grasslands towards Evergrove. “Today, we fight for Praetoria
Toller’s heart thundered in his ears as his feet pounded the ground. All around him people charged with weapons held high, isolated shouts of anger thrown up between the chants of “Waka.”. They were nearing him now, still standing there with his arms outstretched, encapsulated within a fuzz of silvery blue mana.
As they came alongside Waka, the great summoner lifted his arms to the sky before forcefully throwing them down and slapping the ground. There was a loud crack, and the air hissed around Toller. A tingle fizzed along his sword arm, imbuing his weapon with a violet shimmer that flickered with a venomous green as he moved it. Looking to either side as he ran, he could see that everyone else shared the same enchantment.
The enemy rushed to the edge of town as they prepared to receive the attack. There was an assortment of regular looking soldiers intermingled with all manner of terrible monsters that Toller had never seen before in his life. But he wasn’t scared. He didn’t care. Waka Spiritblade was there, fighting with them. They could not lose.
When the two forces met, the sound filled Toller’s world. Metal clashed and shrieked as it was deflected away. Screams of the wounded and dying saturated the air. And even though they were outnumbered ten to one, the bandits pushed on. Toller cleaved his way through the Chaos Legion, the enchantment in his blade only needing to touch the enemy once for it to fill them with a toxic pestilence. All the while, Waka looked on as his small army fought their way to victory.
When it was done, Toller dropped his blade in exhaustion and doubled over, fighting for breath. It was a similar picture all around him. Some of the bandits, though, had fallen, some of whom had been Toller’s friends. He would shed a tear when he remembered them that night, but now was the time for joyous celebration. Against all odds, they had won. As the cheers rippled through the remaining ranks of surviving bandits, Waka reached out for the tubular prison that was suspended in the air high above them. He gently coaxed it down from the sky and released his captive upon the ground.
Waka opened his arms to encompass the slaughter. “You have seen what will come if you choose to stay here!”
The former captive turned and ran, terrified. He stumbled his way through the bodies of his brethren towards freedom.
Waka called out to him, his voice rolling like thunder across the land. “Now go, and tell your people, your leaders. Tell them all that Waka Spiritblade is coming!” He looked to the army standing beside him. “And tell them he is not alone!”
Collect special Limited NFTs related to this story at https://www.splintertalk.io/nfts/
CREDITS
Story: Daniel Beazley
Editor: Sean Ryan
Narrative Lead: Joey Shimerdla
Character Art (cover): Candycal
Illustrations: Mateusz Majewski
Voice Acting: David Dahdah
Music / Post-Production: Isaria
Creative Director: Nate Aguila
