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Scene #63
The Dominion Chronicles, Book 1
The
plush, mossy green grass was cropped so short that before they
passed, the dead thought they were already in their silken burial
shrouds. The bodies looked strategically posed, some embracing
each other in their final moments, others unsuccessfully reaching
out to another, and still others hugging their knives and swords to
their chests, none wanting to pass alone. The looks on their faces
were all the same. Jarringly serene. For all of
the death and pain on exhibition, there was none of the dismal
shock associated with it for the field was basked in unending
sunlight, the arms of its rays stretching out like a mother
beckoning to her child. As yet, unsullied. Almost peaceful.
Almost. The ongoing battle was the only thing marring
the artistry of the landscape, not quite tarnishing its splendor so
much as queerly emphasizing the desolation and warmth of the
ferociously beautiful scene. This clash would have to be
documented in the stars, for the earthly realm on whose behalf the
war was waged would never know about it. “Seal! Take
G-group and form up behind me! They’re going to regroup and hit us
head on!” Niah, the last ranking commander on the field, bellowed
commands to her people while blocking, parrying, and hacking
enemies at all sides. Her machete had never seen so much action
until that encounter. The ancient war between the
Dominion and the Divine, normally so evenly matched, had finally
teetered in favor of the Divine, a huge blow to be felt by humanity
for generations to come. Dominion and Divine, both descendants of
the mythical fallen angels of ages past, many with powers beyond
reckoning and having survived for hundreds and hundreds of years,
became casualties of war in tragic moments. The
Dominion had expected they would be on the winning end, their
idealistic notions of good prevailing over evil making them cocky
and reckless. They fought to protect the human race from Divine
interference, but they also fought to restore a place for their
souls in the WCA, What Comes After... the sons paying for the sins
of the father. The small contingent of Dominion left on the field,
the only one left, still refused to believe victory would not be
theirs. “Oonie, take up the left flank!
Joachim, how many are left of your squadron? Take the right!
Pentagon formation, people!” After confirming his people
followed orders, Seal turned to see Niah grappling with a Divine on
the ground. The Divine had her head bent low and was struggling to
get her into a submission hold, but before he could get a firm arm
around her, Niah moved with such speed and agility around him that
the Divine didn’t see her signature groin grasp, nor the face plant
and subsequent bolo thrust into the back of his neck.
“Niah! We can’t hold out for much–” Seal brought his cudgel down
on someone’s head interrupting his own sentence. Niah
made a mad dash for her group but was stopped mid-step by a Divine.
With a nanosecond’s calculation and a quick side glance to where
Seal and the others had formed, Niah was already motioning in a
downward slash, cutting her opponent in half, and unerringly
letting loose a dagger from her shoulder harness, slaying a man
about to hew Seal in the back. A fleeting lull in
the fighting allowed Niah to rejoin her people before another
Divine could molest her. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
she smirked while rubbing some blood out of her eyes and gingerly
picking something off her arm. “Blech. I’m a magnet for innards.”
Just then, another squad of a hundred Divine
appeared at a dead run about 1000 yards away, straight for them.
Niah’s shoulders slumped. “Ugh. They’re early.”
The flanks of the onslaught started to fan out,
intending to encircle and attack. Niah looked behind her. Fifteen
Dominion against a hundred Divine. “So not liking
these odds.” Seal stood beside Niah and raised his cudgel as if he
was at a batting cage. She inevitably knew what his next words
were going to be. “He’s not coming.” Machete in her
right hand and bolo knife in her left, Niah was at the ready. “He’s
coming.” 500 yards. Seal kept his club
high as he balanced evenly on both feet. “How do you know we can
trust him?” Cool as a cucumber, Niah reveled in the
adrenalin rush and the confidence in her heart. “I just know.” It
wasn’t as infectious as she’d hoped. 300 yards.
“Besides ... you’re kind of late questioning me now.”
Seal’s WTF-look said what he couldn’t, but her characteristic
shrug was enough for him to want to smack the “Oh well” look off
her face. If she weren’t his superior he so would’ve.
200 yards. “Sorry I can’t be more
inspirational. He’s coming. Trust me.” 100 yards.
Tensing her arms, ready to swing her machete at the
first wave of the assault, she screamed, “Make ready!”
20 yards. A sudden flash of light just above them
blinded the entire field, momentarily stunning both sides. When
the light subsided, the attacking force of Divine had fallen dead
in their tracks. The Dominion team, and a new player, stood at the
epicenter of the ring of death.
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