3 Years of War

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.