Ch. 11: Bloody Dawn

Saint sat in hiding behind a large bush, peering through the gaps at the entrance to the White Light Society base. Two guards armed with broad spears patrolled in front of a huge, silver and gold door sticking out of the side of a grassy knoll. Behind a nearby hill, the sky was already turning red. It would be dawn in half an hour. A red dawn. A red day.



Then, someone tapped Saint’s shoulder. Saint whirled around, pinned the intruder to the ground, and drew a reverse-curved dagger. Gagging, barely able to speak, the messenger held out his empty hands in protest. “Priest would like to see you, Lieutenant sir. And please let go of me.”



Saint appeared in Priest’s hiding spot. There, the rest of the clan leaders were already gathered. In a corner, Blizzard was gasping for breath, a fresh roll of parchment bundled up in one his hands. “I ran…all the way…here…from Wa-Kia. Liz…wanted me…to tell you guys…to be careful.”



“Blizzard, take a rest before you speak.” Priest said reassuringly. “We have half-an-hour before we attack. I’m sure that’s plenty of time…”



“NO! Can’t wait…Liz wanted me…to tell you guys…that his invasion…of the ShadowStorm base…found nothing inside.”



“WHAT!?!?!?”



“When the Guardians…of Doom…entered the ShadowsStorm base…last night…at midnight…it was empty…which means…”



“Which means that they’re all here.” Saint nodded grimly. That changed everything. Now they were going to assault a clan, three times their size, in a well-defended base, with an army of fresh recruits. What were they waiting for? Saint drafted a new plan in ten minutes. They could not back down from this task. They were going in…all the way.



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The guards in from of the White Light base looked up. The first, red rays of the sun were peeking over the hill. A red dawn. Then, one of the guards gasped, then slumped to the ground. The other guard turned. He felt a sharp edge go against his throat. Then he too was lying in a pool of his own blood. Saint stepped out of the shadows, sheathing both of his daggers. He them motioned to Nathan, who likewise stepped out of thin air. It had been almost too easy…



“FREEZE!” They both turned around. There stood a guard captain, flanked on either side by twenty lesser guards. They all had spears pointed right at the two of them. “Put your hands above your head, now!” Nathan eagerly complied, pulling out a small piece of parchment from one of his sleeves as he did so. The parchment had a single, silver rune on it. He uttered a simple spell, and the rune on the parchment turned black. A explosion, black smoke everywhere. When it cleared, Saint and Nathan could be seen, dashing away as fast as they could. “AFTER THEM!” the guard captain cried. The entire group charged after the two fleeing men. Behind their backs, the rest of Requiem snuck into the base through the main entrance. All but two. Dye and Jake stayed behind, poring over the blueprints that Blizzard had given them. According to the parchment, there was a second, secret entrance that led straight to the ‘throne’ room of the clan base. They were going to find this entrance, come what may.



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Meanwhile, Saint and Nathan were having a bit of trouble. Two versus twenty was never a favorable ratio in a battle, whatever the skill gap between the two sides. After running for five minutes, Nathan stumbled over a root. He fell, and a guard lunged at him. A puff of smoke. Nathan was sitting in a tree, overlooking the group of dumbfounded guards. Nathan hadn’t told anyone in the clan, let alone anyone outside of it, that he could teleport short distances in the blink of an eye. As the guards stood there gaping, Saint dashed through their ranks, swinging an intricately designed shortsword. This sword could be customized to fit the needs of battle. When speed was required, parts could be detached, allowing for faster swinging. And when there was thicker armor around, all of the parts could be reattached to give it more momentum. As was the case right now.



Five soldiers fell to the ground before the captain turned, giving out a signal. All of the soldiers sprang into action. And from behind various trees, hidden troops with shortbows popped out, unleashing a hail of arrows. The trappers had become trapped. Nathan raised a small, roundshield from his back to ward off the incoming arrows. From a hidden quiver, he pulled out a javelin, aimed, threw. An archer dropped dead, a spear in his neck. Saint was having slightly more trouble. He had no shield to easily bock incoming arrows with. Thinking quickly, he took his shortsword and shattered it into all of its components. Each piece of the sword flew in a different direction, knocking all arrows out of the way as they went. Then Saint was among the guards once more, slicing through their armor with his reverse-curved daggers.



After knocking out all the archers, Nathan sprang from his perch on the tree, landing on top of three guards and crushing their skulls with his shield. He had run out of javelins, so he unsheathed a longsword from his back and began slashing through the guards. However, they were still badly outnumbered, and quickly tiring. There were ten guards left, not including the captain of the guards. They surrounded the two men, spears pointing inwards. Nathan wasn’t sure if he had enough energy left for another teleport, and he couldn’t leave Saint to die alone. He raised his sword for another strike...



And the guard in front of him fell dead, his head smashed to pieces like a rotten pumpkin. Nathan stared, stunned, as a small little girl in a red stealth suit wiped the blood from her bare fist. Then she aimed a kick at the guard next to her, smashing right through the guard’s ribcage. Saint turned to get a good look at the girl. She had red hair, red eyes, and the facial features that made her resemble one of the captains of Requiem. He had heard the rumors, but never seriously considered the fact before now that Blizzard had a sister, Dawn.