Alliance chronicles · ХАН
The Beast
Sometimes a legend is born before people can understand what they have seen.
Prologue
The first to run were those at the front.
They did not retreat.
They received no orders.
They ran.
They burst from the mist one at a time, then by the dozen. Without shields. Without weapons. Some fell, got up and ran again.
The second line still held.
“Halt!”
Officers tried to turn the fleeing men around.
“Back! Return to the line!”
No one listened.
One soldier crashed into the line, almost knocking down a spearman.
The spearman grabbed his shoulder.
“What is out there?!”
The soldier tried to break free.
“The Beast!”
“What beast?”
But the man was already running on.
Another man appeared from the mist.
Then another.
“The Beast!”
Others took up the cry.
“The Beast is coming!”
The spearman looked ahead.
Mist swirled above the ground, mingling with smoke from the fires.
At first he saw nothing.
Then something flickered in the grey haze.
Three dark heads.
For an instant, two orange points flared beside one of them.
Eyes?
No.
Probably fire.
A tall human figure moved behind them.
Then everything vanished into the mist again.
The spearman tightened his grip on the shaft.
Then the man to his right began to run.
A second followed.
The line wavered.
The tavern
A few hours later, they sat in a tavern.
Wet cloaks dried beside the hearth. Broken shields and weapons lay piled against the wall.
No one wanted to talk about those left on the field.
They spoke of something else.
“I saw three heads.”
“Three dogs.”
“Maybe.”
“What do you mean, maybe?”
The soldier stared into his mug for a while.
“I saw three heads. I didn't see how many bodies were beneath them.”
Someone at the next table turned around.
“I saw them too.”
“What?”
“The eyes.”
“What eyes?”
“They were burning.”
“Half the field was burning.”
“I know.”
“Then what did you see?”
The man fell silent.
“The eyes.”
The table fell quiet.
“And the man?”
“What man?”
“The one above it.”
“He was walking behind them.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“He was riding it.”
“I saw his legs.”
“I didn't.”
No one argued any more.
A few days later
The story was already being told in town.
A small crowd gathered outside a shop.
A merchant stopped arranging his goods. A woman with a basket paused at the door. A boy squeezed between the adults.
“Black as coal.”
“Big?”
The storyteller thought for a moment.
“As big as a warhorse.”
Someone whistled.
“And three heads?”
“Three.”
“Did you see it yourself?”
“I spoke to those who did.”
“And the eyes?”
The storyteller looked at the boy.
“They were burning.”
An old man by the shop smirked.
“Of course they burned.”
“And the man?”
“What man?”
“They say someone was sitting on it.”
The storyteller nodded.
“So they say.”
“Who?”
He shrugged.
“Nobody knows.”
The boy looked at him.
“What do they call it?”
The storyteller smiled.
“The Beast.”
The report
A few more days passed, and the Beast was being discussed at court.
A map lay before the king.
“Who defeated the vanguard?”
“Unknown.”
“How many were there?”
“We don't know for certain.”
The king gave the officer a displeased look.
“Then what do you know?”
“Three separate units reported the same thing.”
“What, exactly?”
The officer hesitated.
“The Beast.”
The hall fell silent.
“Three heads?”
“Yes.”
“How big?”
“About the size of a warhorse.”
“The eyes?”
“The soldiers claim they burn.”
The king stared at him for a while.
“And the rider?”
“Some say they saw a man above the Beast. Others claim he rode it.”
“Who is he?”
“We don't know.”
“And you believe all this?”
The officer looked at the map.
“I believe that three hundred armed men ran.”
Another Campfire
Far from the royal palace, there was laughter around another fire.
One Alabai sat before a soldier, solemnly offering its paw.
A second carefully took meat from someone's hand.
A third slept with its heavy head on a man's lap.
A large man sat by the fire.
His back was turned to us.
He held his mask in his hand.
“…and then he says, ‘That's my horse.’”
Someone burst out laughing.
“That's the third time you've told that story.”
“It gets better the third time.”
“The fourth time, there'll be a dragon.”
“Don't spoil the sequel.”
A messenger approached the fire.
The laughter gradually faded.
“How many?”
“I don't know. Many.”
“Our men?”
“Still holding.”
“How far?”
“They won't last until dawn.”
For several seconds, no one spoke.
The man looked at the mask in his hand.
Then he stood.
The dog sleeping on a lap woke first.
The second stopped watching the meat.
The third rose.
The man put on his mask.
The dogs followed him.
Alone
They held the ruins until nightfall.
Few men remained.
Beyond the wall, the enemy was gathering again.
One defender peered through a breach.
“Movement.”
“Where?”
“On the road.”
“Who's there?”
The soldier stared into the darkness for a long time.
Then he smiled.
“One of ours.”
“How many?”
“Alone.”
The other man looked at him.
“Alone?!”
“Enough.”
In the distance, a large man walked along the road.
Three dogs moved beside him.
After the Battle
He was not invulnerable.
He could be knocked down.
He grew tired.
Made mistakes.
Bled like everyone else.
It was just that sometimes he came where no one else still could.
When it was over, the prisoners were gathered near the camp.
The wounded were laid apart.
The masked man stopped beside one of them.
“What's wrong with them?”
The healer looked up.
“Two are badly hurt. One won't make it to morning.”
“Help him.”
A soldier standing nearby frowned.
“They're enemy men.”
The man looked at him.
“I can see that.”
“And the others?”
“What others?”
“The prisoners. About forty men.”
“Feed them.”
“But they…”
The man was already leaving.
“They've already lost today.”
KHAN
That night, one prisoner watched the victors' camp for a long time.
Three dogs lay by the fires.
Ordinary Alabai dogs.
One slept.
Another was fed by hand.
The third lay at a soldier's feet.
The prisoner called a guard over.
“Hey.”
The guard approached.
“Where's the Beast?”
The guard frowned.
“Who?”
“The Beast. The one with him. The one that attacked us.”
The guard stared at the prisoner for a few seconds.
Then he understood.
“Not the Beast.”
He nodded towards a distant fire.
An enormous man in black armour sat there.
His back was turned to them.
His mask lay beside him.
“His name is KHAN.”
The prisoner slowly turned his eyes to the man.
Then to the three dogs.
And asked nothing more.
To his enemies, he was the Beast.
To his own, KHAN.
