The Warriors' Bane

Chapter 3: Battlelust Lingering

Selmas knows a lot about being a Warrior, even though he isn't one.

The story goes like this: the Alyrisin were once blessed by the Gods with a gift known as the Bloodstone. The Bloodstone is kept and tended to by their village, and in exchange, their people receive powers that should belong to deities. Heightened strength, faster reflexes, and an affinity for battle that cannot be replicated by any other people on the earth.

Of course, not everyone in their clan is capable of becoming a Warrior, but every person in Selmas' family has been, as far back as they can trace their lineage. It's a point of pride for them; their bloodline is a constant in the history of their people. His family are supposed to be protectors, fighters. They wield their swords with an air of meaning, as though the weapons are just as vital to them as their organs.

And then there's Selmas, who is tall and thin and very much not a Warrior. His hands are too clumsy, his feet constantly stumbling. He tried to go through the training with his cousins, but he never quite got the hang of striking down wooden dummies and wrestling the other children to the dirt, and when the time came to perform the ritual that would determine whether or not an Alyrisin became a Warrior, Selmas had to watch as his blood dripped off of the Stone, falling to water the dirt with a silent sort of finality.

People pitied him. They pitied his family. They pitied his long-dead parents (because Alyrisin Warriors were often short-lived; maybe it's a blessing that they hadn't survived to see his shame), and they spoke in hushed whispers and wondered what Selmas had done to offend the Gods. Selmas hadn't done anything, except exist, but maybe that was problem enough.

Regardless, he grew up with the full expectation that he was to be a Warrior, but it never happened. The Chieftain still thinks that he'll come into it one day, that the Bloodstone made a mistake the first time, and Selmas wants her to be right. So he continues to study, continues to train alone, while the others his age, who became full Warriors, are out on the battlefield.

Battlelust is the main gift of the Bloodstone. Selmas has never felt it, but Byrin has described it as being drunk on war, an intoxicating rush that sweeps you up and away so that you don't feel pain. It's what allows the Warriors to push their bodies past any human limits, to endure anything that they come across. Unhindered by pain, they can do anything, and that feeling is something that is hard to let go of. As crude as the name sounds, it's the closest thing anyone can attribute it to; desire, heat, the essence of the cosmos boiling in their veins.

The Warriors are trained in combat, but also in centering their minds with their bodies, to return to themselves when the fight is over and the Battlelust is no longer needed. It's for the protection of those who are not blessed by the Stone, and for the protection of the Warriors themselves. The absence of pain for long periods of time will cause the body to run itself into the ground, to destroy itself from the outside in.

This is the one aspect of being a Warrior that Selmas is good at. He's always found it easy to center himself in the present, to reach out with his mind and acknowledge his place in the world. To feel. It's harder for the other Warriors, who have to strain to regain their consciousness, a fight in and of itself.

And right now, it looks as though one of them is losing the battle.

The Warrior, Yun, has the fierce, spitting look that all Warriors wear when they're high on their own blood and power, but it's even more terrifying when it's directed at his own people. The others are trying to gather in a loose circle around him, to keep him steady, contained, but they don't want to hurt Yun too badly, which Yun currently has no qualms about doing.

He smashes his forehead into Gwynfor's nose—she is not getting very lucky with all of this—and she staggers backward, dropping into the sand in an undignified heap. Another Warrior kicks out the back of Yun's knee. It pops sickeningly, the joint wrenching out of place, but Yun doesn't even seem to notice.

Instead, he yowls, lunging forward, not even hobbled by the new injury to his leg, and scrapes his nails across the chest of a female Warrior, leaving behind bright red lines welling with droplets of blood. Byrin, from out of nowhere and with a long spear that he collected from Gods knew where, replaces her and flips his spear horizontally, pressing it againt Yun's neck.

Yun growls, hands wrapping around the shaft of the spear to keep it from choking him. Byrin uses the distraction to swipe Yun's legs out from underneath him, and pins him into the sand, pressing most of his weight down onto the spear to keep Yun in place. The other Warrior thrashes, his good leg kicking at the sand as he tries to throw Byrin off.

“Yun-an!" the Chieftain says, her voice strong and commanding. “What are you doing?"

Yun doesn't answer, all manner of speech washed away by Battlelust. The Alyrisin already don't speak often, having no room for long words or phrases, and in battle, they rarely use words at all. Instead, their weapons do the talking, and when they lose those, their fists take over. But now, Yun's voice is completely gone.

“Calm yourself," the Chieftain orders. “The fight is finished."

Selmas watches, but Yun's irises are nearly swallowed up by his enlarged pupils, and they're showing no signs of shrinking, even as he stops thrashing underneath Byrin. Byrin, however, doesn't notice this, and Selmas can see his muscles relax a fraction as he thinks that Yun is coming back to them.

“Byrin," Selmas says, “Don't—"

It's too late. Yun, his strength clearly overpowering, knocks Byrin off of him and to the ground. He's on his feet in the next moment, injured leg dragging behind him as his eyes zero in on Selmas, who still has words in his throat. He darts forward, and Selmas knows that he won't be able to move, won't be able to get out of the way in time, and he's exposed because he wanted to get a closer look, why did he do that—he holds his hands out in a futile gesture as Yun closes the gap between them—

And then Yun is being hooked at the elbow by the Chieftain's scythe, swinging him away from Selmas and into the grasp of three waiting Warriors, who use Yun's distraction to pin his arms behind them. Another three join them, dragging Yun to the ground, where he yells wordlessly, anger flooding his voice, the howl of a predator denied his hunt.

Selmas winces, swallows, feels his heart beat somewhere behind his eyes. Byrin is standing and dusting himself off, not looking overly concerned that he'd been tossed like a sack of grain. Gwynfor is still lying on the ground, pinching the bridge of her nose to get it to stop bleeding, but it looks more like she wants to be down there as opposed to being unable to get up.

“Secure him to a tree," the Chieftain orders. “Five of you stay to watch him until he comes back. Do not release him until then."

The Warriors holding Yun nod gravely and haul him to his feet, dragging him away up the beach. Selmas can still hear his shouts long after they've gone.

“What was that?" he breathes. “There's… no one should have Battlelust for that long, not after the fight is finished."

“Selm-an," the Chieftain says, her voice stern. “Go back to the village."

“But—" Selmas begins, but the Chieftain cuts him off.

“This is why we can't have those who aren't Warriors on the battlefield," she says coldly. “You get in the way." She turns her back on him, directing the next order to Byrin. “Rin-an, make sure he goes back to his teacher. We don't want another fiasco."

“Yes, Chief," Byrin says. He gives Selmas a sympathetic sort of face and then takes him by the shoulders, steering him away from the beach.

Selmas looks back, over his shoulder. The Chieftain isn't even watching them go.

He snorts, slumping in Byrin's grasp. “I took notes."

“Well," Byrin says, “Maybe that's your problem."

“How is that a problem?"

“Warriors act," Byrin explains. “We don't sit around and think. If you want to be a Warrior, then you should be like one."

Selmas watches as Byrin pushes a tree branch back so they can pass under it, letting go too quickly and getting hit in the face. “You know, Byrin, thinking might do you some good."