Duty to them all ended
A quick glance over his shoulder assured Cosaint that Midir was busy at work. Messy case - the poor soul had caught a Calebite spear dead centre in his stomach and was loosing blood fast. There was certainly no chance of moving him until Midir had worked his arts. He'll pull through though Cosaint assured himself; Midir isn't in the habit of losing patients. In the mean time it was up to him to keep the advancing Calebii away from Midir and his charge. True, the main focus of this particular battle had drifted on elsewhere, but they were far from being in the clear.
And here they came now. Four Calebii, in a loose group advancing slowly. No formation, no proper caution; they evidently thought there was no challenge ahead of them. Most likely they were scavengers looking to make a quick profit away from the main body of the fighting and out from under the watchful and greedy eyes of their superior officers. Wicked, confident smiles spread across their eyes as they furtively moved in on the lone defender. Excellent thought Cosaint, steadying his breathing and hefting Equinox, maybe we'll all get through this one alive.
The Calebite on the right darted forward stabbing with his short-sword, hoping for a quick kill. Catching the blade on the haft of his polearm, Cosaint spun into the blow, dropping and hammering the soldiers legs out from under him with the weighted base. Not waiting to register the sound of air exploding from the stricken warrior's lungs, Cosaint sprung back to full height, flicking the full length of his weapon upwards, deflecting a stab from the second assailant skyward and throwing his balance off. A quick reverse swing of the haft caught the Calibite under the shoulder, shattering the joint and sending his sword careening from his suddenly numb fingers. Equinox's fearsome blade dipped as Cosaint spun and brought the curved head up the inside of a third Calebite's leg; severing muscle and tendon and sending the soldier screaming to the ground.
So far so good, Cosaint spun towards the final Calebite brandishing Equinox around his head in a wide circle and knocking the prone first attacker unconscious with a well placed kick to the head; nothing their own healers can't deal with when they get back to camp. Sunlight glinted off the steel head as Cosaint transferred the pole-arm to under his right arm and sent it sweeping out in a murderous arc towards his final opponent's neck. A sudden look of triumph spread over the Calebites face as he ducked under the blade and sprang forward intent on disembowelling the lone Armengarian. He barely had time to register the foot cracking into his chin before crashing to the ground in an unconscious heap.
Not bad thought Cosaint as he quickly surveyed his surroundings for new threats, now once Midir is finished we can move on and..
"HOW DARE YOU?!". The outraged shout from behind him jolted Cosaint off his train of thought. "THAT LAST ONE NEARLY HAD YOU, AND THEN WHAT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED YOU LOUSY PILE OF CATTLE DUNG?!"
Cosaint could only stand speechless before the unexpected barrage. Advancing towards him, his cheeks flushed red with blood he could ill afford and his rent armour showing the pink freshly formed skin where Midir had worked another of his miracles, was the Armengarian whose triage he had been covering.
"You're Cosaint aren't you? The freak?" The words bit deep for all that they weren't unaccustomed. "You keep your soft-hearted, weak ideals off this battle-field, you understand me? If you can't kill Calebii, then you have no business being out here at all. We don't have time for you to indulge your misplaced feelings of mercy." Standing now chest to chest with Cosaint, he thrust his head aggressively forward. "You're going to get somebody killed, and I can only hope that it's you. As it is, I don't understand why your parents didn't just drown you when they realised they'd given birth to a spineless coward."
Emotions swarmed to the surface and Cosaint fought them all back, forcing himself to smile. "Your welcome, it was a pleasure to save your life. Maybe we can do it again sometime". The comeback sounded weak even to him, but it was all that he could do to stay looking at his comrade. Even still, the lump of spittle he received in his eye was something of an unpleasant surprise. Feeling his stomach sink like so much ballast, he stood wiping saliva out of his eye and down his burning cheeks as he watched his comrades stalk angrily away.
"He didn't really mean it" came the calm voice of Midir, "men are rarely in control of their emotions when they have had such a brush with death, and it tends to cloud their judgement."
Cosaint turned to face the healer, and saw nothing but concern written on his face. He could never tell what to make of Midir - did he actually accept Cosaint for what he was, or was it just an extension of his bedside manner? Gather round students of the healing arts; here we have a patient with a rare mental illness which leads him to reject the teachings of his people.
That's beneath you Cosaint reprimanded himself, he's concerned and is showing you kindness. Don't be so paranoid.
"You don't believe that for a second do you?" Damn, that came out wrong. "Come on," he hastily cut off the objection rising to Midir's lips "where to next?"
**********
"Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy". Deor's voice cut through the stillness of the hall with calm authority. "Cosaint, your movements have all the grace of woman nine months towards providing her first warrior. Now go back to the start and do it again"
Mouth dry and limbs trembling, Cosaint started through the pattern again. "No! What're you doing it like that for?" Shook and feeling useless, Cosaint could find no reply for his teacher.
"Sit down Cosaint and get your head together. There's no point in continuing when you are in this state."
Gratefully the young student sank down onto a hard bench, placing the wicked hooked swords down beside him. Briefly allowing his face to rest in his hands, he looked up to find Deor staring at him with worry written in every line of his face.
"What's wrong with you today Cosaint? I haven't seen you this unfocussed since you first came to me 12 years ago."
"I don't know a Dheor Usail. I just can't keep my head straight today." "I'll try harder," he added reaching for his weapons again.
"Sit your butt down and don't give me that Usail crap. You only ever call me that when you are trying to hide something." A slight smile was tugging at the edge of his mouth now, as he struggled to keep a stern manner with his student. "You're still worried about taking your place outside this hall aren't you? You could delay it a bit longer you know? Were I to tell the Protector that I felt you would benefit from more training, none would dare contradict me."
"No," Cosaint's reply came out sounding harsher than he had intended. "I've put this off for long enough now. If I don't face them now, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to."
Deor pulled up a stool opposite his student, a marked tenderness evident in his face now. "Are you still intent on this course of action? You needn't draw attention to who you are, you know? Direach is getting on fine as a fencing instructor for the more gifted children, and there are few alive now who remember that he trained here under me."
Struggling now to find the right words, Cosaint looked straight into the eyes of the man who had been his family since he had left his parents. "I just...I guess I wouldn't be happy with that kind of deception." Again, he knew he had picked the wrong words and moved on quickly. "It's like, I'd be living my whole life waiting for those close to me to find out who I am. I just don't think I could live with the looks on their faces. No, I'll face them right from the start Deor. Let them vilify me - you've taught me better than to let it get to me."
"You mustn't hate them Cosaint. Never hate."
The look of disappointment on Deor's face was almost more than Cosaint could bear. "It's not that I hate them Deor. I guess I should. I mean, they've made me feel like some sort of freak ever since I was five, but I still don't hate them. I don't know, I guess I kind of pity them. Their so wrapped up in the barbarism that has been forced upon us...," desperate now to see the disapproval on his teacher's face removed "I just wish they could see the beauty that you have shown me. I wish they didn't kill so readily."
"Oh my poor Cosaint, that's almost worse"
Feeling small and bereft, Cosaint sat in silent pain as the old man continued.
"Never pity a man for the weaknesses we all carry within us Cosaint. Man is a primal animal. A hunter. A killer. The rage lies within us all. All it ever takes is a small spark to ignite the flames, and any man can become a murderer. Don't pity them Cosaint, just hope that you are never touched by that spark."
"Enough," he broke off seeing the pain in his student's eyes "get out that oversized pocket knife you are so fond of and lets see how you are doing with that"
**********
Focus on the task at hand, amadain Cosaint reprimanded himself as he tore himself out of his reverie. There'll be plenty of time to think about Deor, aye and even visit him, if we hold through this last wave.
Behind him Midir laboured fiercely over the prone bodies of three Armengarians who were all that was left of a Talon. More time consuming than the last job and infinitely more risky, there was no doubt that they were going to be caught by the advancing flank of the Calebite force. Running through his breathing exercises, Cosaint felt the tension flow from his limbs as he walked out to meet the advancing unit. More of them this time, and far more organised, this was going to be a lot more difficult.
The first swing of Equinox hammered against a hastily positioned shield, cannoning the Calebite off his feet. Cosaint swung the blade through again expecting a further attack, but found none stepping to meet his steel.
A movement to his right; the weighted base of his weapon swung low breaking shin bone even through armoured greaves.
And again none moved to press the attack.
Cosaint felt despair rise and threaten to master him as he realised what was happening. Slowly spreading out around him, the Calebii would pen him in and move on to slaughter Midir and his patients. Competent as he was with the sword, Midir would never be able to hold off the advancing troop and butchering the High Healer of Armengar would be quite a feather in the unit's cap.
Helplessly, Cosaint watched as they expertly deployed around him, and saw where the grunts would break off to attack Midir. You can't let this happen screamed a voice in the back of his head, sounding shrill and pathetic over the dull roaring in his ears. You've got to try something. Taking one last quick scan of the situation, Cosaint readied his blade. It's not fair was the only reply he could give the accusing voice before his mind fled before the enormity of what was about to occur.
One breath.
Equinox leapt forward, the curved blade lodging deep in the skull of a Calebite officer. Jerking it back, the cruel barbs on the back tore the throat from a startled warrior who couldn't believe the lone Armengarian was attacking.
Two breaths.
A sharp pivot on the heels and the blade flashed out. A sword sails off to the right still clenched in the hand which originally held it. A soldier screams in pain and disbelief as beside him his comrade's ribs are staved in by a backhanded swing of the blade. Discipline forgotten, the Calebii push in to attack.
Three breaths.
The barbed back of Equinox lodges into the collar bones of a Calebii warrior. The relinquished weight of the haft drags him to the ground across the path of his shield partner. Cosaint's broadswords leaps from its scabbard and buries itself in a soldier's ribs, before being harshly jerked free of the vaccum between destroyed layers of muscle.
Four breaths.
Tripping over his dying comrade, a Calebite never feels Cosaint's sword severing his spine just below the base of his skull. Crying like a child in the dark, a rookie collapses to the ground desperately trying to stem the flow of blood from his femoral artery.
Five breaths.
Six breaths.
"THAT WAS INCREDIBLE"
As though his head was breaking water, Cosaint felt his senses abruptly jarring back to normalcy as a young Armengarian staggered towards him. Pale faced and weak looking, the teen showed signs of recent healing at Midir's hands.
"I've never seen anything like it. Your Cosaint right? Man you saved our lives out here.
They'll sing songs about you in years to come."
Pride surged in Cosaint's chest as the youngster reached forward his hand. Drunk with exultation, Cosaint moved to meet his palm; tasting for the first time in his life the sweet nectar of acceptance and admiration.
The blood on his bracer burned into his vision like red hot needles. The sounds of the dying assaulted his ears and the smell of gore assailed his nostrils with renewed potency.
Man is a primal animal
A crow sweeps in to feed on the entrails of a still dying Calebite, who feebly attempts to beat it away.
All it takes is a spark
Behind Cosaint, his life's blood flowing though his clasped fingers, a boy whimpers a prayer to foreign gods for his deliverance, before lapsing into silence.
Don't pity them Cosaint
Another of Midir's patients wrenches a blade from the severed hand which grips it and staggers back towards the enemy lines.
Just hope you are never touched by that spark
Jerking his hand back, Cosaint turned and stalked away from the stunned young Armengarian, hoping to hide the hot tears coursing down his cheeks. Fifty metres away, and his body shook with racking sobs as he wept; tears of shame for his briefly felt pride, and tears of pride for his eternal enduring shame.
By Fergal O'Brien