Daygo's Fury Read Free

did not stop; he could not have stopped if he tried. Horses started to rear and snort and neigh, struggling against the reins of their masters, creating more and more animated noise. Connia realised that work had suddenly stopped on the mountain pass as a million eyes looked out over the commotion below. And then it came time to march.
    There was no fear in the ten thousand, Connia knew, for they felt the same as he, filled with fanatical need to end it, a fanatical need to succeed in their final task and then to die, spitting in the eye of the beasts.
    The chant and cries of Levitas grew and started to repeat themselves.
    “No! Do not chant my name, chant that of humanity. Chant the name of our species! Chant the name of us all, we here, who will save mankind.” Leaders looked up from the words on the page in astonishment at that, even more fanatical fervour in their eyes as they sought out their leader, before returning to their task. “Mankind, who will not be defeated, who will not be extinct, who will not be exterminated. MANKIND! MANKIND! MANKIND!” The chant rang out, roared from ten thousand throats as they cantered their horses forward towards the far-off hordes of beasts. It was the last march. The march of the ten thousand.
    “Let them come,” he whispered to the wind, tears in his eyes, “let them come.”
    They were everywhere still, feasting on their spoils, unworried by the occasional groan or cry of those who were still alive; a scene now too familiar to Connia’s eyes.
    With spear, shield, sword and bow, ten thousand of the best remaining had fought. On horseback they were on a level footing, able to stare the beasts down eye to eye. Horses reared, having grown to hate, nostrils flared aggressively from their retched scent. They fought for their species too, whether they knew it or not. The finest war animals, millions of their peers already dead.
    They had bought a week. Seven days of skirmishes, of false trails and sleepless nights that had culminated in this final battle when the beasts could not be evaded or misled any longer. And here they had held, for one day more. He had been unconscious for hours before awakening to this hell. Hell on Earth. It felt as though it had always been hell as opposed to Earth. Such a long journey. The sound of his blood dropping onto the cloth of the dead man below him was a background noise, present but unidentified within his brain. His eyes met those of the beast, now rising from its meal, intent written into its movements.
    He realised he was laughing uncontrollably. This was it. Finally, it was over. Relief washed over him, overawing his senses, making his limbs weak as he shook with a manic edge. He could stop now, it was at an end. He fell to his knees and hunched over slightly, tears streaming down his face. He did not know if he cried or laughed, he was simply awash with too much emotion to deal with. He cried out into the sky as his limbs shook loosely.
    He had done his duty, to the very end. It was finished. Sometimes it seemed as though he would never make it to this day. Sometimes it felt as though there would be no end. For so long he had thought that he could not keep going. He looked forward at the colossal beast in front of him, almost lazily galloping towards him, and he turned his head, not wanting that abomination to be the last thing that he saw. His gaze landed on a face, a familiar face. His laughter ended in escaped air. He closed his eyes tight and lifted his head. He felt himself fall backwards, the change of perspective, the whoosh of air, like a dream. He never hit the ground. So a man. A man after all. I’m sorry Lev. I’m sorry, most of all, that you had to die here too. It was done.

He is born
    172 years later …
    The streets of the inner city of Teruel were quiet in the evening time, before the revelry of night began and after the store fronts were closed up. Among this subdued atmosphere, in the home of a privileged man, a