Gauntlet

The dagger flew from her hand, biting deep into the bark of the thick oak across from her. Out of breath and drenched in sweat from her hard work, San was training like she did most nights. She came from a small village known for raising the strongest fighters in the kingdom. At least it used to be known for that.

Only ever hearing legends from the nice elderly couple who took her in after her parents passed. She was too young back then to remember much about her mother and father, still only being eighteen, she pushed herself hard to try and be something for her fading village. The thin bloodlines were mostly carried by the few young men who worked hard away from home and sent what little coin they could by mail to their parents, wives, and small children.

San knew if one day she was strong enough to work as a guard in the Capital, she could support the whole village herself and still have more than enough money left over for herself. Even though she was training to be a warrior, the village was only able to ration small servings of rice, a few vegetables, an egg if she was lucky, and some aged smoked beef on her birthday.

Growing supplementary food in a small garden outside the home she stayed at seemed to be the only steady nutrients she could rely on other than scavenged acorns and mushrooms, but for the early spring, they were few and far between.

Collecting her throwing knives and sheathing the dagger that wasn’t much longer than her projectiles but held sentimental value having come from her mother who’d also had the ambition of being a great warrior, she wiped the drying sweat from her brow and jogged back to the village.

She tried to always train somewhere different so she wouldn’t get comfortable, or damage the same trees too much, but tonight had been a good five kilometer run out to a neighboring forest. As she came close to returning, she could tell something was off, as a quiet wind blew no sounds of chirping birds or squirrels awoken from hibernation, but as she got closer, it was clear it wasn’t just in her head.

Even for the night, the village was quiet, from a distance, she saw Kiju, one of the many older men in the village, stooped over in a seat and she safely assumed he was sleeping, maybe even out waiting for her. Stepping forward and tapping him on the shoulder, worried for the old man as it was still too cold to sleep outside, his corpse fell over, his blood-drenched shirt warning San what had happened this night.

Clinging to the walls of buildings, passing homes with the doors kicked in, and bodies draped across the once peaceful village, San herd cackling voices echoing across the courtyard. Two men sat bragging and patting each other on the back about their conquest over the elderly and children, eating what little rations they could find while sitting on a pile of corpses, drenched in the blood of those who’d fought back, and those who had run. They were bold to not fear what lay in the wake of the shadows.

Using a small girl’s severed head as a footstool, one of the two men choked down the villages cherished smoked beef while another tried counting the gold he had scavenged from the surrounding bodies. Creeping up through the tall grasses shadows, San studied their regal armor lit by flickering lights that bounced from the bonfire they had started between them. Their armor was plated with a lion’s emblem atop the heart over thick leather, seemingly fairly sturdy, but being so relaxed about their onslaught, they had removed their helmets and chainmail from their neck to make it easier to eat and chortle with each other.

Throwing her knife with more intent then the mighty oak ever received, San’s blade ran clean across the glutton as he finished the last of the beef. His partner assumed he was choking on the dried flesh, not bothering to look up from counting his coins.

“Damn it, Ponto, I told you to slow down with that crap, we have no idea how old it is. Knowing this place, it’s probably spoiled like the rest of the elderly women…” The soldier couldn’t help trailing off as he looked up to see Ponto’s body falling flat on the fire, smothering it as he choked out his last breath through the river of blood flowing from his second chin.

Raising with his blade in hand, the other man’s armor clinked together as his shaking nerves got the better of him. The counted coin that sat on his lap was lost to the darkness and dirt below as San stepped quietly from her shaded grass around a neighboring hut to break his line of sight, crouching as she moved through the darkness. The fellow guard was distracted by the sizzling flesh of Ponto lying on the scalding coals after smoothing the fire, his audibly popping skin left a scent strong enough to curl the greedy man’s nose hair.

Approaching him from behind, she quickly grabbed his head back by pulling his thinning hair and driving her mother’s dagger through his jugular. A sharp, painful cry alerted the few others, but that didn’t help their odds.

San’s heart raced over the sight of the bodies, the dripping bead of blood from her dagger unsettled her as she had only killed a chicken once before, and that was years ago. Taking in the gravity of the situation, she knelt down to clean her knife off, her shaking hand pulling fabric from under the bandit’s armor, she wiped the blade but then cut off a wad of woven cotton in preparation.

Being drawn to the remaining men like a moth to a flame, San quickly climbed a thick limbed tree, watching as three more men patrolled the village, looking for the source of the screams they’d heard, walking in a triangle formation with two men ahead and one behind, the three men marched down the beaten trail in the middle of the village.

Leaving her roost as they walked past, she skulked behind the man furthest behind. Silently stalking him, she kicked out his knee, jamming the wad of fabric in his face, covering his mouth and nose as her dagger once again met the neck of her enemy. The other two were too far ahead to notice, allowing her to set the larger body down and mentally regroup. The vague scent of wine helped San guess why the two men talking were so oblivious to their fallen comrade.

The man on the right seemed to be the only one who would pose a threat, not from the heavy axe he wielded, but he seemed to be the only member of this band who kept his neck protected, with the other man’s torch refracting of his gleaming helmet.

Prowling behind the two bandits as she walked past the familiar bodies on the dirt trail, she recognized the people, the families discarded like trash. A seething rage built in San as she recklessly dove at the man on the left, easily severing his neck from his head with the element of surprise only making her dagger’s edge sharper.

She backed away from the oozing corpse she made as she needed a safe distance. Waiting for the armored man to swing his axe, she anticipated his attack, stepping aside at the last minute and running up the wooden handle of his blade, jumping at the bend in his arm to springboard a backflip, kicking off the man’s helmet with more than enough force, as he staggered back, she landed her routine with both hands gripping the leather binds of her mother’s blade harder than ever before, digging deep through his adams apple and slicing down to his collarbone. Heavily panting, as her acts were much more gruesome than simple training, she dismounted as the body dropped to its knees, the blood welling around her feet as she swung at the air, leaving her dagger to thirst for more.

The sounds of smashing and screaming echoed across the night, leading San to the village leader’s home where other hostages were tied up, laid out like worms, struggling in the dirt for their lives, crying for help as a burst of maniacal laughter followed one loud thud and splat after another.

Climbing around the stone hut, a window gave way to the gruesome sight as San tried to get an idea of what she was up against next. The leader was a hulking guerilla-esque form of a man, clearly feeling extremely bold as he removed all of his armor but a singular metal gauntlet. The metal seemingly crawled along his arm, binding to his skin, and stopping at his shoulder. But it was oversized and needed to be held by his left bare arm, for the sheer mass of this weapon seemed too much for him to wield properly.

“PLEASE, I’ll do anything to stop this, PLEASE,” the town’s leader begged, crying for freedom and forgiveness as she laid amongst the bodies of other townsfolk. “At least tell me why, there’s certainly nothing we have done to you to deserve this.”

“No, you’re right,” the man stated, shrugging with open palms, “you did nothing, but when my men and I risked everything to get this blood thirsty artifact from across the sea, it didn’t seem right to skip over Dowzen, the home of many great fighters for decades, and not obey the gauntlet’s bidding by popping a few heads, testing its metal,” he said as he clenched his iron fist, drops of blood flowing out as remnants of the lives he’d ended that night.

Raising his metal fist far above his head as he was just about to end the village leader, San shattered the window, jumping through the blades of glass as her own steel dagger was sure to meet its target.

Lowering his arm slightly, it covered the upper half of his body, easily catching San’s leg, whipping her against a wall before tossing her outside. Gasping for breath, her small frame meant speed and stealth were her only advantages in combat, her fragile bones definitely couldn’t take another hit like that.

As she started to crawl to her knees, she watched as the poor town elder’s screaming head was silenced by one thundering smash as the blood splattered around the room, coating more of the man’s body as he stepped to the door frame, eyeing the end to his massacre.

Grabbing a handful of dirt, San jumped to her feet and dashed for his left side as the gauntlet was on the right, ducking as he swung his iron arm at her, it shattered the stone wall behind her. Jumping up through the confusion of the rubble, she threw the dirt at his eyes, blinding him as she sliced between the joint in his shoulder where the flesh met the metal, not fully amputating his massive arm, but certainly doing enough damage to justify him screaming in agony, blood gushing from the wound as he reached out, grabbing San’s small frame again through clouded eyes.

Choking her against one of the remaining walls with his bare hand, he held her fully outstretched, her short arms out of reach of his windpipe. He strained his metal arm to lift the gauntlet, blood continuing to seep out as he struggled to square his iron knuckles to her skull, preparing to end her as a faint snapping sound came from his oozing wound. Strand by strand, each ligament was tearing as the heavy gauntlet lowered, finally severing, it plummeted to the ground, denting the pounded dirt floor.

Thinking fast as his grip loosened, she let her dagger fly once more, the hilt resting just under his chin as his remaining blood trickled out like a maple tree being tapped for syrup.

Free from his grip, San returned to her heels as the behemoth fell to his knees.

The hour of adrenalin finally started to run out of her, a pounding headache pulsing through the back of her head thanks to her unfortunate meeting with the wall, she looked out amongst the horror, the carnage one night brought.

Amongst the shades of red and faceless bodies, one severed arm stood out to her. The gleaming metal still shone by the few candles scattered across the now open concept room, the punched hole in the stone letting in a small breeze that teased the candles as San struggled to lift the gauntlet.

The severed arm fell free with a large chunk of the metal, crystallizing to dust, scattering in the breeze, only leaving the massive mitt that if she wore it, would stop at her wrist. Examining the nooks and crannies of overlapping metal, she was entranced. There was no blood to wipe, despite the horrific acts the glove had committed.

Her finger traced the edge with curiosity, the serrated edge quickly drawing blood as the iron went from sharp to soft. Like a nightmare, the metal quickly opened up, melting around her fingers, shrinking to fit her tiny hand, but carrying the same weight as before. Panic gripped her as tightly as the gauntlet’s metal as San swung her arm relentlessly flicking her wrist, then desperately trying to pry it off with her feet.

Almost dislocating her shoulder trying to remove the iron as it must have weighed more than a fully grown boar, she gave in to exhaustion and settled in on the straw bed in the corner not having the energy to walk to her own home. Once it was clear the gauntlet wasn’t coming off, she slowly opened and closed her new metal cage before heaving the iron to the other side of the bed as she lay to think. Her thoughts fading, mirroring her simple village life.