Ashia

Spinning, her blade drove home, splitting the creature’s deformed gargoyle-like face in half and spraying black blood over her hands, arms and face. Without flinching she just twisted the sword free roughly and moved on, leaving the body to fall, still twitching to blood-covered ground. One moment of hesitation could cost you your life here. Weapon held high above her head, she flowed into the next form – cutting off a demonic head in the process – and leapt into the next fight with an enthusiasm only brought out by the warfare. Adrenaline surged through her veins as tangled bodies lay on the ground, some still having occasional spasms as their lives slipped away. Breathing hard, she paused, but kept her awareness about her. Abruptly she realised only a moment had passed – time became warped when you were caught up in battle; all your focus went into staying alive – and her senses restored. The noise of battle roared in her ears: cries from the injured and dying; screams from falling soldiers; clashes of armour and weaponry and battle cries as more forces for both sides charged in. The smells of blood, sweat and decaying flesh filled the air. Swarms of fighting creatures and humans heaved around her, and before she had had time to barely take a breath she was back in the midst of a fight. Starting more than 3 years ago the battle had been long and hard, the constant skirmishes between the two sides evolving into this: the final battle. It seemed as though the beasts were retreating; being pushed back and Ashia leapt into the chance, slaying the opposition before they could even see her coming. Glancing around she saw other members of her team doing the same, pushing forward with a second wind inspired by the ailing enemy.
They carried on pushing until the moon lit the sky and there were few creatures left, and most of those turned and fled into the sparse forest that lay behind them. Watching the last of the creatures brave enough to stay and fight be torn down, Ashia turned to the man leaning heavily on his sword next to her. His dark hair was matted with blood, and although wincing slightly every time he moved his leg, a playful smile curled his lips upward.
“I did tell you we would win didn’t I?” His grin showed his pleasure at being right. But overconfident and cocky as he was, Tiyler was a good friend and companion. “Come on, there’s no sport left now.”
Turning away they walked in a companionable silence, each contemplating the nights events. Sighing, she surveyed her cuts and bruises left by the battle and longed for a wash. Sticky blood from the foul creatures stuck to her skin and made her itch. Her wounds weren’t too bad, and after seeing a Healer they would be nothing. She looked Tiyler up and down too, taking into careful consideration his leg. That would need seeing to immediately, to stop the taint of evil from spreading. But when she mentioned it he just laughed it off saying it was fine. That was his problem; he never took anything seriously. On the fields lay the corpses of hundreds of thousands of creatures already being cleared away by helpers. It would be a huge job, and the crops would never grow here again. After reaching the camp 6 miles away, she went in search of a Healer for Tiyler, the man could be infuriatingly dense sometimes, refusing aid when he surely needed it. Walking around the tents, lit by burning branches held in brackets and with the smell of meat being turned on a fire and ale drank in celebration she reran the battle in her mind. As usual most of the memories were glimpses, or sounds, swords flashing or man and beast colliding in a furious fight for survival. There were many theories for Soldier’s Memory as it was called, the main two being put forward by philosophers in cities hundreds of miles away, yet they seemed to make sense. One suggested that Soldiers Memory was a defence mechanism used by the brain to block out the traumatic recollections of blood and fights, so that the soldier in person wouldn’t have to face these. The other was simple; during the fight the brain was so wrapped up in surviving and adrenaline that it didn’t have time to store away what was happening, therefore just leaving a few imprints of significant moments that may have caught your eye during the fighting. Spotting Leave she darted to catch her attention. Every Healer’s name is linked to nature; it’s where their power originates. A petite woman, with blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes Leave was a lot older than people thought. A smile spread across her face as she saw Ashia, yet faded as soon as she noticed the wounds from the fight. Drawing her lips tight, a disappointed look came into her eyes. Healers hated violence of any kind, it was against the way of nature.
“Another battle? I’d hoped that maybe this time you would see the light. I guess I should have given up that hope a long time ago.” Ashia studied her feet respectively; Leave was one of her oldest friends, and was an Elder amongst Healers. “Healing?” she offered stretching out her hands.
“After. Tiyler needs your help right now.” She said, leading the older woman towards his tent. Inside Tiyler was lying on his blankets playing cards and smoking with some of the other men in the aftermath of the battle. Leave, however, had others ideas. Stalking into the tent, her ice-cold stare sent the other men scurrying out muttering excuses and apologies with their heads down. Tiyler however welcomed them with opened arms and a smile spread across his face.
“And what can I do for you my good ladies?” he said with a mockingly flourished bow.
“Sit down.” Leave said, her voice as hard as steel. Tiyler studied the Healer’s stony face for a moment, then sat down complacently.
“It’s really not that ba-” he started before she silenced him with a glance. Tearing the trouser leg, she took one look at the bloody gash and set to work.