Madness Under A Mad Sun

Ashbreath and her commander peered over a large blue pond, a searing wind blowing the precious water to life in gentle waves. She looked forward to this burning day every age, and at last here it had come again. The temperature wasn’t just slightly higher than the day before, it was unbearably hotter. Most people within the territory of Malstray would be shut inside their homes, cool rags on their faces, their windows and doors drawn shut to avoid the oppressive Sun. However, the people of Dieser were not like most others. Living amongst the heat and smog of their underground mines for so long had changed them, fortified their bodies to withstand some of the harshest conditions Mother Nature had to offer—save for the cold of the far north.

    A measured breath of air she drew into her lungs, her gaze on the horizon unwavering. She exhaled an ashy, putrid-smelling cloud. A thousand miles of harsh, dry land lay before her, here in her position on the border of the city Grayscage. It was the easternmost city in the Kingdom Dieser, and though it had not any walls to protect it and its people, it had Ashbreath and Waklit the Winceless—and they were as good as any great wall.

    Ashbreath was one of the lucky ones to be able to not only withstand Dieser’s smog, but to be enhanced by it. Sure, her breath was as foul as a Leviathan’s, but she never had to worry about succumbing to long term exposure to the noxious fumes many of Dieser’s people lived in every day. She was a well-muscled and experienced warrior; nearly every inch of her was either scarred or pocked with damage sustained from decades’ worth of battles. Her hair—underneath her helmet—was a spiky crop of black in the front, and a thick bun in the back. Stealth wasn’t her forte, as her bulky set of Ribite armor was anything but silent. Three crystals the smog in Dieser could create inside of those over-exposed to it: yellow Ribite from their ribs, which was used as armor, weapon tips, or arrows, purple Tombsling, crystalized lungs used as projectiles to spread large clouds of deadly smog, and red Mirrorleer, crystalized blood commonly used in the creation of a hallucinogenic drug.

   Waklit the Winceless had been aptly named, as no one had ever seen the giant man react to any of the countless wounds he had sustained over the ages. Known as one of the Lucky Tall, he towered above everyone, and served as the king and queen’s commander. He too wore a suit of Ribite armor, a custom fit that had taken all of Dieser’s best smiths to craft, along with a heft of the precious resource. The dark brown of his eyes seemed almost black, and even Ashbreath felt uncomfortable looking into them for more than a few seconds.

    Ashbreath smelled the air. “They’re almost here,” she said, not moving her gaze from where she had set it. Sweat rolled out from under the top of her helmet, leaping down to the ends of her full cheeks and tiny nose.

    “Finally,” said Waklit, rolling his shoulder, and squeezing at his enormous bicep. He nodded at one of the many dried out carcasses that littered the landscape. “So many has the Sun turned to skeletons. It's never been this bad before.”

    “No, it hasn’t. Let’s just hope there’s anything left out there for us to kill! Ha-ha!”

    Waklit laughed right back at her. “Fools, thinking they can withstand this heat. I even feel a touch burned around me eyes.”

    They were both dripping with sweat; the air was heavy, thick with an unyielding heat that every age claimed the lives of many humans and animals alike.

    Looking behind her, Ashbreath scanned the edge of the community there. Everyone had been instructed to stay indoors, and it appeared as if they’d properly taken heed. Just as she was turning back around, something caught her eye. She froze, and peered harder at the widely spread apart homes.

    Waklit noticed her distraction. “What is it?” he asked, drawing his curved longsword from its sheath on his back.

    “I…I thought I saw something scurry from between two homes,” Ashbreath answered.

    “They’ve never come from the west before. Could it have been one of the people? A wayward child or pet?”

    Ashbreath set her hands on her hips, fiddling with the hot pommel of her sword. The Sun beat down over them like an over-enthused drummer. “I’m going to check it out,” she said. “I’ll be but a moment.”

    “Take your time,” said Waklit, waving his gloved hand dismissingly. “Peons always arrive before their juicier counterparts.” He cracked his neck, stamped the dusty ground, then howled at the unrelenting Sun.

    His deep voice echoed far.

    Ashbreath chuckled, heading for the village. “Try not to slaughter them all so quickly this time, will you? I hardly had my fill last time, and it is such a wait to have to endure.”

    “Well then you might want to hurry back! Hah-hah!”

    Ashbreath sauntered away from the pond she and Waklit had been charged with protecting, her eyes searching for whatever it was she thought she had seen. Every age on the hottest day, Leviathans would amass in droves and descend upon Dieser’s water sources. Drought drove them to take such extreme measures to survive, even though they rarely had been successful in their attempts. Dieser’s people would be damned if they were going to let animals steal their water. The pond here in Grayscage was the largest in the kingdom, and had never suffered any ransacking since Ashbreath and Waklit had been appointed to guard it.

    Her heavy boots made the already cracked ground split apart as she moved, reaching the outermost circle of homes, her sheath clanking loudly on her hip. Ashbreath leaned around the first two homes she reached, her eyes darting from left to right, then back left again. These short buildings had seen better days: their clay roofs had been repaired countless times, their walls were missing sections, and some windows were covered with nothing more than thin sheets. There was a well-trodden path that led from house to house, some of which was lined with sun-bleached wooden fencing. A few dozen trees were dispersed about the large village, and their near leafless limbs rocked as the persistent wind jostled them from their stillness. Window covers flapped softly, and the occasional bark or yip from a dog could be heard from somewhere farther in the village.

    “Hmm,” contemplated Ashbreath, holding onto the sheath on her belt—both to be ready in case she needed what was inside, and to keep the damn thing from clanking. She felt the sting from the heated up metal, as she had opted not to wear gloves today, and already was regretting that decision.

    She heard Waklit roar again. Then, there came the first call of a Leviathan. Ashbreath was uncertain which kind of Leviathan it was, but it wasn’t alone, as more similar chirps and grunts followed right after the first. She would have to show haste in her investigation now, if she was going to get her hands dirty before Waklit finished the job without her. Dashing out from in between the houses beside her, she opted to charge straight through to the middle of the village. There lived around six thousand people in Grayscage, and on any other day it would’ve been a pleasant enough place to visit. The people were nice enough, and by the stars did they enjoy them some Mirrorleer. Ashbreath herself was a self-proclaimed connoisseur of the mind-altering drug—never left home without a nice little satchel. So, she knew always that she’d be in good company whenever she visited.

    But it wasn’t time to celebrate yet; something wasn’t right here.

    Ashbreath heard the sound of Waklit’s sword swinging, and the resulting cry or shriek from the unfortunate Leviathan the weapon had been swung at. She jogged past row after row of silent homes, her head bouncing from left to right, right to left, seeing nothing but empty streets. Another joyous howl from Waklit. Then, as the echo of the man’s voice was on the brink of disappearing, she heard someone scream. It had come from the other end of the village, past the center and on to the far side, the west side.

    “It cannot be,” mumbled Ashbreath.

    She tore off down the dusty path, kicking up clouds as she went. The weight alone of her armor would’ve been too great a burden for many to carry, let alone with such a brutal heat on top of it. Anyone other than a Diesonian would’ve cooked themselves hours ago. Another scream hit her ears, then a third, and fourth.

    “Hold on!” she shouted. “I’m coming!”

    The path cracked and burst under her hasty charge, her arms flailing at her sides, legs working like hard-thrusted oars in an unruly sea. But she was still a ways away yet, and each second she wasn’t there to help whoever needed her seemed like a lifetime.

    As she neared the center of the village, where a thick square of trees offered some of the finest shade within fifty miles, she could just barely make out some commotion in the east. More screams came, and harder her heart pounded, and her legs worked. Charging up a slight hill, Ashbreath drew her Ribite sword. Three more rows of houses to go, and then she’d be in the western side of the village. She didn’t think she’d ever sweat this much in her entire life. It had pooled up in the tightest places within her armor, and she wasn’t feeling too enthused about finding out what that smelled like later when she took the armor off.

    “I am here!” Ashbreath announced, forcing her voice down into a baritone. “2^nd Commander Ashbreath!”

    A terrified group of people dashed out from the homes in front of her, and some of them were bloody. Ashbreath bit her lip. How could she have been so naïve? It was only a matter of time before the Leviathans found out only one side of the village was protected. But why come through the west, the farthest away from the pond? Why attack the people? Sure, they had water in their homes, but the Leviathans were only drawn to open water sources, not sealed jugs or cups.

    Ashbreath twirled her sword in her left hand. “Get behind me! Hurry!” she beckoned, waving on her people.

    The group made it past her, and she charged up to where a large patch of blood stopped her in her tracks. More screams rang out from multiple homes nearby. A man darted out from the home in front of Ashbreath, and she grabbed him by his shoulder.

    “What’s happening!” she demanded.

    “Blood Takers!” the man cried.

     He was covered in blood. Ashbreath let him go, then looked at her bloody hand. She tightened the grip on her sword. “Go, I am here now. Everything will be okay!”

    The man took off toward the center of the village, screaming something about someone being dead as he went.

    There was more noise coming from Ashbreath’s left, so she went there first. Sure enough, a Blood Taker was there on the path in front of a few homes, and it had its claws and muzzle sank deep inside the back of a woman. These Leviathans were about as tall as a short human, and nearly twenty-feet-long, with retractable toe claws, feathers, and a nasty bite. Ashbreath cleaved it in two through its shoulders with one swipe. Its heavy body crumpled to the bloody dirt, leaving the woman it was eating to twitch her final twitches of life in peace.

    “Waklit! They are here!” Ashbreath screamed as loud as she could. “They came for food this time as well!”

    She whipped the blood from her blade, then continued on toward the sounds of screams. She pushed open the ajar door of a house on her right, and found two more Leviathans feasting on a family of five. Furrowing her brow, and clenching her teeth, she lunged at the hungry creatures. One of them jerked up from its food, and met her with a lunge of its own. But she skewered it through its chest, then tossed it to the side, lunging for its partner. The second Leviathan snapped to its feet, and lunged as well. Ashbreath caught it by its throat, took a couple of ear-piercing scrapes to her chestplate, then punched her sword through its thick skull.

    “We are not food!” Ashbreath growled in the dying animal’s face, before she tossed it into the corner of the house.

    There were no survivors here. So, she quickly moved on, again following the screams. People were running for their lives, and the once empty, quiet paths were now a blur of furious movement. Ashbreath carefully charged through the panicked crowd that had formed in front of her, seeing a pack of six Leviathans jumping on the slowest and most panicked. Her heart skipped a beat, and for a moment she felt her head get light, her fingers tingle and then go numb. She was suddenly aware of the copious amount of sweat coming off her, watching as bead after bead jumped from her face. There was no way she was overheated, that would’ve been preposterous. However, she was feeling rather thirsty.

    Trivial feelings shoved aside, she made it to the pack of Leviathans, and tore the first one away from its victim with a quick pull on its feathers. She bared her teeth at the bloody thing, then sliced its throat, dropping it to the dirt. She howled like Waklit, but hers was a howl of pain and anger, not of a declaration of an impending good time. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d lost someone during these protective missions. Sure, it happened every now and again, but those were normally to people who had disobeyed orders to stay indoors. This was something entirely out of character for Leviathans.

    The remaining five Leviathans looked at Ashbreath, the ruiner of their meals. One by one they lunged at her, and one by one they fell. Ashbreath listened, and heard that the screams had shifted to the west, back toward the pond. She moved her heft as swiftly as she could, the Sun offering her no reprieve from its suffocating gaze. She was taken aback, as a Blood Taker burst out from a home on her left, landing on the path on top of a struggling man. Her reflexes kicked in, and she sliced the animal’s head from its shoulders, nearly taking the head off a woman running by as well.

    “Waklit!” Ashbreath screamed again, chest heaving.

    She stumbled forward, no longer able to sprint. Her vision doubled, and she mumbled incoherently to herself, swiping a hand in front of her. She was coming back around the outermost circle of the village, back to the east, but was having trouble wading through the terrified crowds. The chaotic noise around her blurred too, and she felt as if she might vomit. How could such things be effecting her, as fine a warrior as she was? It was beyond embarrassing, this whole mess was.

    Another Blood Taker leapt onto the path before her, slicing down a man, and then tearing into him. Ashbreath’s sword felt heavy in her hand all of a sudden, and she struggled to pick it up from where she had let it drag on the ground beside her. The heat, oh the heat she wished more than anything would stop, more than the screams, more than the Leviathans. If only she could bloody see straight again, be able to swing her sword. It was a feeling worse than death. Death she welcomed if only to spare her another second of this humiliation.

   Then, the Blood Taker before her exploded into a bloody cloud. She felt the warm spray of blood on her face. There were three instances of Waklit before her now, all vying to take the dominant spot in the center of her vision. She heard his voice next, but he sounded terribly far away.

    “You look Sun poisoned,” Waklit said, his voice a mirage of obscurity, as he kept his partner from falling over.

    But Ashbreath had heard him. “Sun poisoned?” she mused. “Nonsense. Diesonians cannot be such, especially my—” She vomited onto Waklit’s boots.

    Waklit glowered at his feet, then at Ashbreath.

    “The pond, Waklit, the pond,” Ashbreath muttered, her eyes flicking into the back of her skull, lips blistering.

    “It is secure,” said Waklit. “There were hardly enough to coat the fullness of my blade. Then I heard the people’s screams and yours as well. Got my hopes up for more of a challenge. Blood Takers, peh! They were lucky to snag as much meat as they did.”

    Ashbreath’s breathing turned to shallow wheezes.

    “Alright now, just you hold on,” Waklit said. “Water! We need some water here!”

    As the panic in the village began to settle, more and more people took notice of the commanders. Someone brought them a large jug of water, bowing as they presented it.

    “Thank you kindly,” Waklit said, pouring it over Ashbreath’s face.

    Ashbreath drew in a deep breath, then let it out in Waklit’s face, covering the man in a thick cloud.

    “Shit!” Waklit exclaimed, wafting at his nose. “You really outta chew some mint or something, I mean wow that stinks!”

    Ashbreath allowed herself half a smile, her vision returning. She looked back at her blood-stained hand, and her smile vanished. She balled her hand into a fist. “The heat, Waklit, it must’ve taken their food and water. We’ve failed our people.”

    A large group had formed around the commanders now.

    “Beg your pardon, Lords,” a woman said with a bow. “But you’ve failed no one.”