The first day’s march had gone by without incident. Daristan had taken the lead and guided them safely along the coast. Occasionally they had come across small fishing villages where the inhabitants all turned out to meet them. Hungry for news and wary of the strangers, they kept a respectful distance. Nevertheless, they bombarded them with questions, and to the best of their abilities, they answered. After another day’s march, they travelled along the rocky coast, and did not meet a single soul. Their surroundings had turned eerily silent, and what one might expect of a gull or any kind of life, had slowly disappeared. The only sound was the crashing of waves against the rocks below. Soon, a thick fog began to
“What’s this place? Something’s not right here.” Saya looked around, looking less than amused.
“Correct. We’re about a half day’s march away from an old battlefield.” Daristan shrugged.
This time it was Siravin’s turn to speak up. His face was unusually pale. “But the only battlefield around here is…”
“Dragon Cliff!” Tizare drew his sword and levelled it at Daristan’s back. “Why are you taking us to that cursed place!?”
“It’s the quickest route. And don’t worry, it’s not cursed, just disturbing. I’ve been there.”
They soon arrived at the remnants of the battlefield. Though it had been many years, the clean-picked skeletons still laid on the ground, some had been covered in grass and others still laid bared against the dim sunlight. Their every step seemed to make crunching noises as the brittle bones cracked under their feet.
“What happened here?” Mariel posed the question, and a variety of different expressions arose on the faces of her friends.
“Our kin were massacred here by the humans.” Siravin snarled.
“I’ll have you know kid, it was your kin who invoked the cataclysmic event through mass-sacrifice of the females and children of the wagon train. If you can see the tip of the cliff over there, that’s where it happened.”
“You lying asshole! Your kind murdered every female, child, and warrior in cold blooded rituals!” Siravin looked thoroughly infuriated. He had his fists clenched, and a snarl that would humble a rabid dog.
“I don’t like this place… Can we go?” Casindire had since they had neared the spot, refused to let go of Mariel’s hand.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“Mariel. There was a man here, that I used to know very well. He was the only one remaining of the vast human army that returned to camp that evening. I was sent out to scout the area, and it was, sickening. This whole field, was covered in corpses. The ground was made up of a coagulating soup of flesh, blood and sinew. And not a single demon or human was around.” Daristan shuddered visibly recalling the view. “That is why I need to end this war before it begins…”
“So, who was the survivor?”
A long silence followed before Casindire broke the silence.
“His name is written as Sourceblaze in the books detailing the events… But it’s likely just some nickname… He’d have to be a potent Kilden user to emerge alive if everyone else died.”
“That’s right. And he’s still alive, and those who conspire to escalate the war have probably agitated him into joining as well. He retired after the war, and slid into obscurity… But he’s not dead. He was a recipient after all.”
“Recipient?”
“To be gifted by the gods, they say… Legend has it that the gods once forged a collection of swords, one for each of the recognized elements of Kilden. Some have been destroyed or lost, others broken or made useless… One of those remaining is the one dedicated to Eld; fire. Which is owned by a human, and the one to emerge alive from this place.”
“He’s a murderer… He misused his gift to kill everyone who were here that day…. Siravin’s mouth twisted into a snarl. He raised his foot and was about to trample a skull.
“You’ll discredit their sacrifice by desecrating their bodies? Have the dead not seen enough violence?” Saryssa was the one to interrupt him this time, with a line which had everyone showing hints of surprise.
“I have left the corpses of my kind… Unburied, to be picked apart by carrion, and feasted upon by wolves and creatures… Many of your kin lies here, are you certain you are smashing a hated enemy or your own?”
Shamed, Siravin allowed his rage to abate. Daristan pointed towards the edge of the cliff, which seemed to sparkle even through the thick, soupy fog.
“That’s where your kin lie, don’t go there however. The crystals left behind out there are damaged and volatile… As the body dies, the spirit endures within the crystal... But faced with this kind of calamity, there’s no telling what might happen.”
“Can nothing be done for the souls of the departed?” Casindire asked.
“You can pray for them… Perhaps, that will alleviate the sense of dread about this place… But we shouldn’t stay here… The animals around here are usually not very friendly.”
They remained for a few minutes, while Casindire offered a prayer to the dead. The gentle tone of her song eased the ill feelings in Mariel’s heart that had taken root when they had arrived.
“Careful Mariel, Daristan isn’t telling you the whole truth.” Siah, whom had been unusually quiet for a while spoke up in her mind. “Sourceblaze may turn out to be a lot closer than you might think… Oh, and just in case, there’s about two-dozen wolves over in a clearing in front of you… You should urge your friends to get moving again.
“Hey Saya, did you hear that?”
“I know Mariel… I can feel them. There are wolves out there, and they are rather hungry.”
“We should go….” Tizare loosened the leather strap securing his sword in its sheath.