At the sight of that crimson flood, something in Tamalay snapped. In that fraction of a second, in that briefest span of time, her fears and reservations washed away. As she watched her friends cut down, as she saw the blood run, a red-rage filled her. Her resolved hardened, flashed from a tenuous and capricious thing to solid steel. 1
A fallen body yielded its blade to her insistent requisition. It was a light affair, razor-sharp and light, fast and slender, truly more of a duelist’s piece than a soldier’s weapon.2
Without a pause, giving her resolution no space to waver, Tamalay flung herself into the fray.3
At first, in those immediate harrowing moments, it was naught but chaos to her, a cacophony of flashing blades and brutal strikes, screams and grunts and gasping, scarlet blood and silvered steel mixed with dull mud and pale skin. It followed; it seemed to her at first, no logic, no form, no reason, just chaos.4
But as she ducked beneath a sweeping blade –missing it but barely and losing, instead of her head, several inches of her raven hair –her father’s voice echoed to her from memories past, speaking an old swordsman’s proverb.5
“To the man who listens well, sword strikes are a drumbeat, and he who feels the rhythm of battle can dance to it.”6
For what seemed like an eternity, but was in fact mere seconds, her mind was filled with just that proverb as she strove to listen. A sword-strike here, a grunt of pain there. Somewhere, a foot fell in a ubiquitous puddle, splashing. Yells and screams crescendoed and ebbed.7
But as she listened, the sounds slowly, deliberately mixed. Suddenly they linked together, no longer disjointed, forming a clear pattern. The cacophony became a symphony. The sounds lost their bewildering qualities and became, in her mind, a clear script, a simple audible record of the state of battle and the actions around her. The sounds began to correspond to events, and as she listened, she found her place in that symphony.8
And there, on those blood soaked fields, Tamalay Quelish, highborn, Royal Princess of Kalicea, began to dance.9
All thought fled from her mind, all consideration and contemplation, until nothingness replaced it. She did not ordain her movement, didn’t have to plan her strikes, but merely had to obey the rhythm, ride the flow of the chaos. She slid through the eight fluid Lairas better than she had ever before managed, and then moved beyond them, to moves never learned, never seen, never imagined, but simply felt. She struck with blows and styles and stances seen neither before that battle, nor since it, but were contrived and adopted on the spot, for specific situations and needs.10
The brilliant azure gown flowed about her, swirling and wrapping, twining and twisting mesmerizingly around her ever-moving form, a study in fluid grace and deathly elegance, entrancing those who viewed it. She became then, a liquid jewel, flitting across the battlefield clad in the color of the ocean, twirling aquamarine and glimmering steel.11
And across the field she danced. The purloined blade was joined by a brother, and they flashed and slashed in unerring synchronization, weaving a cage of steel about the Princess, and dealing death and injury to all else.12
She twirled and stepped, leapt and rolled and pirouetted across that field, a blue blur. Her blades sliced, flashed out fast enough to pass all defenses, yet not striking deeply enough to risk lodging, instead shearing off limbs and extremities, opening arteries, and bolstering the bloody tide.13
She moved ceaselessly, that day, past her limits, drawing on reserves she never before recognized. For hours, she flowed on, her limbs long toned and strengthened –though she knew it not –for this exact purpose.14
She sent tides of souls to the afterlife, that day, waves upon waves of slain tallied to her account. And on that day, amidst the blood-red mud, amidst the melee fierce, Tamalay Quelish, turned the tide of battle.
Author notes
this is just a part of a future chapter of "The Wanderer's Lament."
it should be noted that some leaps were taken in the writing of this. i don't know yet if Tamalay will, in fact, BE the princess of Kalicea, but this is just a vision of where the story might go.
please enjoy! and let me know what you think!
In a list
A contest entry
- Anything but please nothing stupid!!! by Sheilasbabygal4life.
325 points, ended September 17, 78 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - This is war! by corrupthoughts.
300 points, ended November 22, 13 entries
• next story in this contest, • Add to finalists list, or remove from contest
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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I really, really enjoyed this... It has a solid flow of words that I admire. Your first two paragraphs are perfectly put together to grab your readers attention. I adored they way you explained the blue dress, how it moved and the way she looked because of it.
I am a fan of not only war stories and the like, but of swords as well, and when you say the old proverb “To the man who listens well, sword strikes are a drumbeat, and he who feels the rhythm of battle can dance to it.” in para 6, I could not agree more and ironically, that is something I have ALWAYS thought when thinking of sword fighting (and, well, being a drummer)..
Also, the whole concept of dancing to the battle, dancing while you battle, is yet another theory I myself have played around with.. and was astounded to see it done in such a way. I could not find any mistakes in this, or any plot or structure issues to point out. I enjoyed your style of writing immensely and was picturing the slaughter so fluidly.
What I admire the most, was how you took war, death and horror... and turned it into an art form (besides, of course writing), but I mean in the form of dance, and they way it is pictured when read, creates a contradicting atmosphere with her actual actions... which, I liked a lot.
Over-all, well done man. This really caught my attention. Thanks so much for entering! -
This was really good. It was nicely written. It kept my attention throughout the whole thing. I liked it. Thanks for entering and best of luck to you in the contest!
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Bravo.
It has been a long time. A very long time since my mind has sung that aria, since my heart has pounded that drumbeat. A thousand characters, miles of prose, and none of it could give me wing like this little snippet.
Somewhere in you is an ancient warrior that I would be honored to have at my back. Draw out the commander, the general that is in you. Let this story (and the many others in you) grow to epic, from first light to evening dusk, like the real battles did. When you tire, rest. Take in the field, soar above it. See the ebb and flow of force. Then join the dance again... and again.
A duelist's piece for sure. Bravo.beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
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This was really good. The only suggestion I would make would be to watch being wordy just for the sake of being wordy. For example, Paragraph 1 seems a little redundant and paragraph 5 seems a bit wordy. Of course, It may just be me too, but I found the overall piece execellent. Great Job
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Very descriptive
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omg Mac!!!
Abso-fucking-lutly brilliant! i need more boyo! -taps foot before bouncing off the walls- i need more material!!!
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