20 Faust

_Faust_

    Sharp changes pierced the air- shouts of curses and prayers littered the area as men fought and died. The summer rains were making the land slick, and hard to hold your ground on. One slip and you were a dead man. One miscalculation or drop of rain in your eye and you were a dead man. The red and black haired boy did not intend to die here.

    He screamed fiercely, the sound echoing around the forested valley along with the others- but his was distinctly louder than the rest, and rallied his men into their own overwhelmingly loud cries. He swung one of two daggers at the heavily armored men in front of him, his own armor being less metal and more leather- not nearly as effective.

    Perhaps if these knife eared weaklings weren't in their way, his people would have more access to better things like metal armor. The thought drove him to attack harder, his movements quickening as he dodged swing after swing of the man's large sword. He had to be careful about this- his own daggers weren't strong enough to pierce metal armor, he had to wedge it somewhere weak, but those spots were small and hard to catch in the midst of battle.

    Luckily, the boy was nearing nineteen seasons, and he had been training for well over a decade. He was a seasoned fighter too- well respected in the eyes of his people. No one questioned his authority.  Of course, at a time like this when one misstep meant imminent death, that didn't matter.

The man brought a heavy swing down next to the boy, but he managed to barely miss, the swish and flow of air next to the boy's head did not phase him. He made a quick move to shove his daggers through the eye socket of the helmet, the man barely managed a short scream before  his body dropped.

    He had barely heard the next person running at him before he ducked under the swing, popping back up to shove his blade under the mand helm and into his neck quite efficiently. He was wasting time skimming off the common rabble of the field. He needed to find the commanders and take care of them himself. He started off through the field quickly, maneuvering through fighting bodies and trees quickly. He assumed they were on the other side, safe up on their horses. Because that was how the knife ears fought. Like cowards.

    The boy cut down a few attackers as he continued on, not bothering to go out of his way to attack any of them and letting his men take care of it. They were almost as skilled as he was- his people were fierce and strong. They stood surprisingly well against the armored enemy- imagine what they could do with that armor on their backs. They would be unstoppable. His father would be proud.

The closer he got to the other side, the thicker the enemy men became and he had to be wise not to get caught around too many of them. He could only be so quick with so many people surrounding him. At one point a man was only a man and nothing more. A good blow and he was down for the count. The thought brought a dark smile to his face.

    If only he was an ordinary man.

    The boy moved along the field, making his way slightly to the left where there were less of the enemy. Most of the battle was caught in the middle. However, he froze, hearing a loud noise from the right. He turned to see dogs, littering the field. They had brought hounds into this? The boy had not been warned about war dogs. He found himself growling at the sight. A dog came for him now, running swiftly like the wind.

    It was only a matter of seconds before the dog was lunging, baring its teeth at him. But the boy was ready, and caught the beast on his daggers. The god whined and he threw it to the side, glaring at it with smoldering honey yellow eyes. He wrinkled his nose in annoyance, looking back into the mass of fighting men and dogs. It could be minutes or hours until everything came to an end. Only time would tell.

    Another armored enemy came at him with a cry, the boy responded with his own yelling, blocking the sword with both of his daggers, pushing the man's blade away from him, and making a move to stab him through the helm, but he missed and it deflected off the side. He kicked the man in the gut, taking advantage of the man's slow movements. The man fell back, and the boy stomped his armored chest as hard as he could, knocking the air out of him. He didn't even bother using his daggers as his foot came down to the man's armored head, kicking and stomping him in just the right way that his neck let out a satisfying snap.

     The boy pushed his loose long hair out of his face, looking out over the battle once more before he started on the move again. The next person who attacked was quick enough to cut his thigh with the sword, having gone for a low sweep. If the boy had not jumped back, the injury would have likely stopped him from being able to walk. He growled out and brought his yellow honey eyes to rest menacingly on the man's before him.

    By the look of his armor, he was nobility. "Surprising to see a golden blooded knife ear out on the field- I took your kind for cowards. Gold is soft after all." He said with a wicked grin, one that resembled a sharp toothed animal.

    "You dishonor your house with those words." The man said in return, circling the yellow eyed boy.

    "Your kind dishonor this land! You do not belong here!" He snarled, batting the sword away with one of his daggers before lunging in and bringing a dagger to the mans helm, but he had leaned his head out of the way and caught the boy by his other wrist, yanking him to the right, and spinning them so that the boy's back was to him and he had his sword up to the yellow honey eyed beast's throat.

"My people negotiated for peace," He defended calmly, pressing the sword slowly into the boys throat so that red drops spilled down.

    The boy was breathing heavily, rage building up in him as he growled out. "So did we but you were asking too much- too entitled to it all. As you always have been," He said lowly. "You took a village of innocents. We will take much more from you." He declared before bashing his head backwards into the man's helm and making him curse, loosening his grip only a bit, but it was enough.

    The honey eye'd boy found an opening in the man's armor and stabbed him there, getting his wrist well enough to make him drop the sword. The armored man fell back, but he pulled the boy with him, letting him fall on top of him. The wild boy thrashed around until he was able to flip himself over and bring down a dagger, but the man pushed it away by the boys wrist so that he plunged it into the mud. There the man suddenly rolled the two so that now he was daggerless.

The boy thrashed and growled under the man, wild and relentless. He kicked and he punched- all quite hard. He managed to knock off the man's helm so that white hair spilled down around him, longer than shoulder length. Through the snow whight hair and deathly pale skin poked long pointed ears. An honorable fight was not something the yellow eyed boy cared for so he had no hesitation, grabbing one of the ears and pulling hard, making the man yell out and bash the others head down hard.

    The boy gasped out at the blinding pain but continued to pull and scratch at the others face before his hands came to the man's throat, sinking his nails in deep and squeezing hard. The white haired man grunted and bashed the boys head down again, harder this time. The boy felt his hands loosen a bit as his word seemed to spin now, curses were flying from his mouth but he was not fully aware what he was saying.

    The next thing he knew, he blacked out after a third firm bash into the ground.

When the boy woke he had a sharp pain in his head, he went to touch where the pain was coming from but realized with displeasure that his hands were bound. A low growl left him as his eyes slowly opened, squinting at the light. He realized now, that he was on a wagon, being drawn by horse.

    Realization washed over him, and a number of emotions hit him. He had lost. The boy had never lost a battle before- his father would be disappointed. More-so to find that the boy had not fallen on the field. He felt some laughter bubble to his throat, he sat up, clutching his stomach as he laughed hard and loud, the people around him giving him weary glances. "Vin es gine eteh garren." He told them all now, and a few men he recognized as his own soldiers looked at him with wide eyes at the words he said.

      He nodded to them and they repeated him. "Vineh es gine eteh garren!" They yelled out in their naitive tongue.

    He laughed harder yet still, until an armored soldier came up to the wagon on his horse- he recognized this man as the one from before- the one that had bested him. He wheezed, continuing his laughing.

    "I do not appreciate death threats," He informed the boy.

    The boy snorted and laughed at him. "Im so flattered that you speak the feral tongue," He spat.

wise to keep the threats to yourself once we reach the capital." The white haired noble advised him.

    "You have only seen the beginning," He said now.

    "Then you surely wish to die sooner."

    "You should have killed me right then and there. I am worth nothing as a prisoner. My men even less." He informed. "My father will not bargon for our lives. I lost to knife ears. I am as good as dead. My life was forfeit as soon as you shut my eyes."

    "That is quite unfortunate. Perhaps you will have a chance at some sort of simple life under the white king if you behave."

    "The white king?" He laughed at this. "You are all white- ugly albino knife ear creatures! You are all the same- even your silly little king." He spat now, scowling.

    "And what about your kind? You are nothing special- talk about the beasts but all I see is you acting like them. You truly have no dignity, at all."

    "Do not talk about the beasts," the boy growled.

    "Do not worry, I care naught for your false god."

    The boy laughed at him again, but none of it was genuine- it was merely mockery. "The only false gods is whatever you fools choose to believe in."

     "Life, death and the blessings in between." He simply answered.

    "Tch,"

"It is Tetragrammaton. But I suppose that is a mouth full for someone who lacks intelligence. You may call it Yahweh."

    "It?" The boy asked.

    "There is no gender to it."

    "Thats stupid." He huffed.

    "I would not expect someone like you to understand let alone comprehend." The white haired man said cooly.

    The boy growled at him, his yellow honey eyes blazing. "I will kill you, and bathe in the blood of your wife right after I-"

    "Finish that sentence and you will no longer have the parts required to bring life into this world." The white haired man threatened with fierce baby blue eyes.

    The beastly boy laughed at him again. "What do they call you, knife ear?"

    "Ser Devoue le Gawne of house Wylde, brother to the white king."

    "What a mouth full," The boy drawled, a distasteful look crossing his face.

    "You are Everan Faust. Eldest son of Halcon Faust Lord-"

    Everan interrupted him with laughter once more. "Lord," He croaked out, losing his breath from all of this laughter. "Lord!" He chuckled until his face became dead serious- an ominous change from the wild laughter and malice that had been so carelessly thrown about before.

    "King!" He declared. "Halcon Faust is the rightful king to this entire continent!" He yelled out now, so that everyone around heard him. His men, who did not speak a lick of this language, knew what the words king meant when concerning Everan's father.

All of the imprisoned men yelled out now, "King Halcon Faust!" with thick accents, some of them hardly pronouncing 'king' correctly.

    Everan looked at Ser Devoue with a wicked grin, his yellow honey eyes shining, promising trouble.