3 years of war passed
The
lofty granite towers of Tecis – Orago’s last bastion in the South – imposed
their stone gaze upon the bright red flames in the distance.
“FIRE
IN AMALID!” shouted the sentry upon the wall.
The
beacon was lit, and the troops stationed in the large building in the middle of
the fort ran for their horses. Though not many, among them were the four
mightiest warriors of the Mountain Kingdoms. The battalion rode in the cold of
night, through low grass and desolate woods, the generals at the point. They
wore custom-forged elegant steel armour sets, covered by a black cloak and
hood, a polygonal eagle embroidered in a bright blood-red. Behind them, the
knights all wore full plate steel. Such was the tradition of the Warlords, a powerful military group who
trained the most elite warriors of the land.
Amidst
the mist, tall smoke pillars could be seen, lit by the burning fires engulfing
the small village of Amalid. The last settlement of the kingdom of Orago, the
Easternmost of the two Mountain Kingdoms, was now ravaged by whatever was
coming from the Black Mountain. Hamut and Hera, from the other of the Mountain Kingdoms
– Inur’l – were still uncomfortable living in once hostile territory. Fighting
alongside the enemy, eating and sleeping in their homes, was still unfamiliar.
But in war, as in love, everything goes. The horsemen – just about a hundred of
them – entered a very dense forest, where the road was so narrow and so dark in
the night it would seem almost invisible. So narrow, the horsemen now rode
single file. So suffocating, the stars hid. The orange and red fires once so
terrifyingly bright were seemingly quenched, lost beyond trunks, branches, and
leaves.
This
dreaded darkness was broken by an explosion of a million colours, throwing the
first half of the soldiers off their horses. The second half got lost in the
woods amidst the commotion. Yells and shouts came to everyone’s ears, confusing
them. Torches fell in the dried out leaves, and rapidly flames spread though
the low grass, lighting the scene. The enemy was on the move to Tecis when they
came upon the allied detachment. They showed as dark deformed figures, with
pointy ears, giant fangs, some with wings, and others long tails, spikes and
such infernal features. In a split of a second the battle was on. Hamut wielded
his spear with both hands, and impaled three with the first strike. Hera spun
in the air, and threw small blades, piercing the hearts of four. Arati and
Jhoser, mighty warriors who could singlehandedly win a battle, fought like
dancers to a deadly symphony, cutting everything around them, gently zigzagging
between allied soldiers and enemies.
The
battle seemed won, but more and more enemy reinforcements were coming from
Amalid.
“Fall
back!” shouted Hamut.
Without
turning their backs on the enemy, the allies started walking back. Many drew
their bows to cover their stride. Arati drew a crossbow, Hera drew a blue
stone, with a strange, rounded blue symbol. In the withdrawal, some soldiers
were killed. They could see the end of the forest, and ran to open field. They
ran as fast as possible.
It
was then that, without warning, they saw it. The giant the border-folk
mentioned. The one who destroyed the fields, took down doors, lifted towers,
the one who could blow a soldier away and rip their souls with a single look. He
who was upon them, a colossus more than a giant. A creature disproportionally
huge, with hellish growls and a petrifying gaze. Seeing such a beast, Hera
called upon his deepest energies. All soldiers were calm, and ready for the
fight. The monster flew forward, under a rain of arrows. Without seeming to
care, he stepped on a handful of soldiers with the first step, and another with
the second. Using this as a distraction, others fled, not without taking damage
from the enemy army in the back.
“Do
something!” Hamut yelled to Hera.
As
they ran – now facing the fortress – frightened by the monster, screams could
be heard from behind, but they did not look. Hera tried everything to keep them
running. He fell flat on the floor, losing grip of the blue stone. Jhoser
picked him up and carried him towards the city.
And
there the stone lay, in the white mud, trod and trod and trod on. Trod by
beast, by man, by monster, by spirit, by fairy. Hid, till someone saw it, took
it, and studied it.
Until
someone used it, and dominated the mountain-folk, a hero with promises of
eternal glory, majestic victories and peace. Someone who would give hope to the
Mountain Kingdoms, and conquered the Black Mountain, pushing the traitors beyond
the Forest of Ant.
