This is an excerpt from a story that I have kept close to the vest. The original episode for the Cyndal Character was a rewrite of the Fa Mulan story. I still want to rewrite that portion better, and develop some different characterization than what Disney used. The setting is a colony planet that lost contact thousands of years before, and reverted to semi-industrial agrarian feudal conditions.
Also Cyndal and the related stories feature an idea that spawned from an idea I had watching Gargoyles many years ago: 'what if you gave a Guyver to a gargoyle?' This is part of why I hold this story close. The application of the guyver-inspired transformation is different than that manga, as are the powers and limitations. This episode happens after Cyndal has been at war for two years, and is an officer in charge of a platoon of forty men, all of whom can transform to a 'battle form' that is a hybrid of a gargoyle and a guyver. Also, Cyndal has pre-cognitive abilities, which are activated by the 'battle form', but they are more reflexive than active. This and related ideas are explored more in other stories.
Cyndal ran through the snow, sword ready. Her men around her, and along the line advancing on the town. It had been a minor squabble with the Captain to get him to allow her to come with this group. but her pre-cog flash had shown her plainly this was where she needed to be.
The five men with her easily kept pace, and beyond to either side were more groups. They had waited for this first day after harvest to make this push. The four inches of early snow were a bonus. The enemy was sluggish from the cold and the attack was being made from the unusual direction of crossing the harvested fields. Bows were still a worry, but the advance group was supposed to have taken care of that during the storm. The defenses were all arrayed to concentrate on the woods, where Cyndal had been making a lot of trouble for them. So the charge was now at the weakest point of the town’s defenses.
They hopped the rock wall and charged toward the farm house. Three enemy troopers came out, with more from the barn. Cyndal and her partner, Bernad, continued to the house, as the other four went in the direction of the barn. Bernad got to the three first, slashed the closest and moved past to engage the next as Cyndal engaged the third.
She blocked his blow, parrying up and away, and slashed him with her forearm blade as she transformed. His hand went to his neck, but was already too late, as he spun away to turn the snow red. Cyndal reverted and continued into the house, crashing through the door and into another enemy.
They tumbled over each other and crashed into the cabinets and the floor. She was momentarily disarmed, having dropped her sword. The first thing at hand was a large spoon. As she got out of the cabinet, its contents crashed down on her, most of its brunt going to her armor.
She sensed peril, and lashed out with her free arm, and found a leg. She pulled it as it tried to step away. He slipped out of her grip, but she had time enough to get up as cooking goods and crockery spice pots cascaded down. He tried to close for a close swing with a short sword, which she missed by slipping on some last jar, and falling again. Another jar came to hand, which she tossed up at her opponent.
It clunked and irritated, but was only for distraction. Cyndal finally had her feet under her, and a kitchen knife in one had and the spoon in the other. The spoon was tossed aside, a slight distraction, and the knife leading a lunging thrust, with a short yell. The knife skittered on armor, catching and breaking the thin blade. But Cyndal pressed on with the stub at the man’s face, gouging his cheek deeply.
They crossed the room and thumped into the cabinets there, knocking more jars and powders of all sorts down. Cyndal backed out briefly, and looked for her sword while drawing out her long knife. He came out of a cloud of flour, stumbling over the debris on the floor and swung his sword hard at Cyndal.
She dodged the swing, and tried to lunge in, but he stopped her causing her to drop the knife. He kneed her in the gut and threw her down. Cyndal was stunned for a moment, unable to breath. Then the man’s weight fell on her. She still did not have enough air to breath. But the man was not moving, and his weight was suddenly a bit less.
Cyndal shook her head to clear it, and looked up to see a girl with fresh blood on her hands and jerkin standing over her. Cyndal heaved and pulled herself out from under the man, spotted her sword and took it up as she stood up. The girl stood by the door out of the kitchen to the rest of the house, with a malevolent look of hate cast at the dead trooper. Cyndal’s long knife was buried most of the way up its blade in the man’s back, through his armor.
Cyndal gulped air for a moment, looking at the mess around her. She finally spoke to the girl.
“Are there any others here?”
“Only in the barn.” The voice was full of hurt, and hate. “They killed my parents, then…”
Cyndal looked her over. Definitely maturing, but still very much a child. She was a head shorter than Cyndal, and as muscled as any active farm child. All she had on was the jerkin. No trousers or foot wear. Her stringy long hair looked to be a very light gold, and right out of bed.
“How old are you?”
“Fourteen.”
“Cyndal.”
“Avery.”
Cyndal put her boot on the dead man’s back and her fingers over the crossbar of the knife. She then gave a sharp tug. The body jerked a bit as the knife came out. Suddenly boot steps were coming their way. Cyndal looked up. The girl had another knife in her hand.
“Behind you,” Cyndal warned Avery.
The girl waited a moment, then backhanded the knife into the chest of the enemy trooper. She did not even flinch. The trooper stumbled, thudded against the door frame, knocking Avery over, and collapsed, not to move on his own again.
Cyndal suddenly realized that she was alone in the house. She went back to the door, and saw Bernad sprawled out next to two enemy troopers, knives and slashes were liberally spread around. She stepped out and knelt next to him, and felt his throat. It was still, but the look of his face was really enough to tell that his soul was gone. Cyndal stood ready to go to the barn.
“Take me with you.”
For a brief fugue these words echoed across Cyndal’s consciousness, and she sensed that this girl’s future and her own were tied together. She stopped and turned.
“A battle camp is not place for a girl.” She watched the girl’s countenance harden in juvenile stubbornness. “Go clean up. I’ve got a battle to fight. We will finish this later.”
Cyndal turned and ran for the barn, just as one of her men came out an upper floor loft door, tackling an enemy. Her man landed on top, and there was an audible bunch of cracks as multiple bones broke. Her man screamed, the enemy could only gasp. Cyndal lay her sword across the neck of the enemy, then saw it a useless gesture, as the man breathed his last.
“Can you move?” She asked.
“I think both arms are broken, and under him.”
“Can you roll over, if I lift him?”
“I’ll try.”
She transformed, and planted her sword and knife blade down in the snow. She then lifted the shoulders of the dead man, and tilted his body to help her man roll onto his back. He groaned as his arms flopped about. His vambraces were smashed, and his gauntlets were mashed, but it looked like everything was in the general right order. Except that each forearm bent in the wrong direction.
“Well, you’re out for a while.” Cyndal set the dead man back down.
“Nice. Could you pull my knife out of his back?”
She rolled the body over, and reverted. The knife had gone in at an angle, so the blade was completely inside. It took two good yanks to get it loose, and out. By this point the other three had come out.
“Report.”
“Six dead, no alarm sounded. You?”
“Three dead outside, two dead inside. And Bernad is gone.”
They paused a moment. Then Cyndal pulled them together, and they helped Eph to his feet, wiped his knife clean and sheathed it. “There is a little girl inside. She is the only survivor. I think she can help you…clean up. Go easy on her. She has been mistreated by these men.”
Eph nodded, and with his arms hanging loose, shuffled toward the house.
Cyndal watched a moment, then turned. “Let’s go.”
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