North-East of the ruined and apocalyptic scene formally known as Dunton was a Fort. It was about a day's walk from Dunton down roads that stirred off the proper Crowned Road. To go down these roads would put you into deep woods and backwater settlements barely touched by Arkin rule. It was rare for anyone, especially Arkin soldiers, to pass down these roads. Yet in recent times it had become more of a common sight. Especially since the Tiso had given orders to restock the abandoned fort of Maligg.
He appointed High General Himmer for such a place. He was a war hero, just like Commander Hein, proving himself only days before Tiso Wilheim passed. The Tiso bestowed him the title of High General after he took up a commanding role during battle after his general took a fatal shot in the trenches of the twin rivers.
The disguised Soren knew of the man. The Arkins that found him near Dunton talked highly of the man as they walked. They were excited to meet such a legend and even spoke of the legends that they were under. Soren asked them who they served under, but they jokingly told him it was a surprise. “They assigned us to two, ones a broken legend, washed up and sad, the other is like a prototype of what is to come, the new era of warriors. Makes that sorry sack look like a dunce!” One laughed as he gave Soren cryptic clues.
“Don't talk like that! I served under em, for five years! He’s a hero to my family!” another stated with stern eyes. “The Captain maybe young, but he aint seen as much as the C-”
“Hush! I wanna see Cass’s face when we get there, don’t say anymore!” the first private said almost covering the others mouth.
“Speaking of which, why are you wearing that scarf ‘round your face? Its scorching in these woods.” The third one called Demoine asked curiously. He had been listening in on the conversation for some time and, like Cass, simply kept quiet and let the other two do all the talking.
Soren grew weary, he had been waiting for this moment for some time. Part of his silence was for this very reason. He had been wracking his brain for hours trying to find a good answer to this very question.
“Razor Bear attack.” He answered quickly. All these hours of walking and that was all he could muster. “Idiot” rang out in his mind.
“You did not go up against a razor bear and live to tell it.” One of the men said in disbelief.
“Oh, but I did!” Soren said giving in to his own outrageous claim. “Why do you think you found me alone? I told you I was a survivor at Dunton, but you think I was sent to investigate by myself?”
“I just thought your team died in the attack at Dunton.” Demoine said intrigued.
“Not at all!” Soren answered as he formed the story in his head. “We were attacked on our way there by a Razor Bear. Thing just came out of the woods and went after us. Two of my mates got a good couple of shots in on him, but those sharp shards on their backs are too thick. ‘Barely got him. He was bleeding though. He cut them in half with those claws and almost had me, but luckily, I put my gun up and he cut through that instead. Only gave me a good couple slices on my face instead of taking my head off. I was able to get away before any real damage was done!” Soren lied through his teeth. The lie seemed to work well, no one asked the rest of the walk to Maligg about the scarf that hid his face from the enemies he had surrounded himself with.
Not long after they arrived at the large fortress called Maligg. It was named such after the first leader of the base during the War of the Divide who had it built to protect the Arkin Territory from the Western Confederacy. It was used as a boarder gate. Where soldiers could protect the west as well as charge through to the west, yet in recent times it was impossible to go through the mountain pass that was connected to it after a group of Rels was inspired by some silver haired female Rel to escape their captors and use the abandoned Fort as a passage way to salvation through the mountains. After that the Arkins collapsed the passage and now has come back to the wrecked fort for some reason Soren couldn’t understand.
He noticed at many Arkin forts and strongholds they would use Rel slaves as farmhands and builders, but here, as he they approached the fort, he saw a lack of Rels. Instead of rels tilling the crops or repairing the damage of time on the metal and wood fort, it was Arkin civilians. Unkempt and worn looking people, but they were simply human as were Rels, but these people were human, human. He thought it unwise to question it yet, so the hidden rebel bit his tongue for the time.
“State your business!” A soldier said standing above them on the barricades.
“We are with the search party! They have made it here in one piece I hope!” Demoine yelled to the man. “They are in high spirits so far.” He said signaling for his men to raise the walls for Demoine and his men to enter. “The Commander and Captain have been hoping you’d return soon, I'm sure they wish to know if you have any information on that damn bowdlerizer and his rebel friend.”
The group entered the fort. Soren noticed more men than a fort ever needed inside. Many wore outfits he had never seen. Black leather under armor sliced and torn, scarred from battles Soren had never heard of. On top of the leather were plates of metal and a tactical vest armed with magazines and needles filled with adrenaline. Some of them had carved into the plating tallies that seemed to mark their kills along with imagery of a vulture carrying the bones of the dead. What struck Soren the most was that most of the soldiers dressed in these odd armors had a bag of some sort tied to them. Some of these bags were small and some were big, others were made of leather while some were of cloth. Some even had carvings or drawings even some sewn in. He didn’t understand who these new types of soldiers were, but they all had the eyes of devilish men. The type of men Soren had seen to many times before.
“Demoine?” Soren said clearing his throat and keeping his gaze away from the leather and metal clad men.
“Yes, Cass?” Demoine said moving ahead of Soren, excitedly rushing toward the large building near the far end of the fort. It was decorated in Arkin Insignias, the Glory Vulture, The A of pride and crown of Tisos. Soren knew what kinda room that was. He had been in too many of these places to not. It was the War Room. Everyone who mattered in any stronghold, fort or camp stood inside there feeling accomplished and powerful. He hated those rooms. He took his mind away from it, and composed himself before any bad memories reared their evil and maroon and gold heads.
“Who is your Commander anyways?” He asked before his throat became too dry and choked up to speak.
“I forgot; the boys wouldn’t say!” Demoine laughed as they neared the War Room. “Well, we are here now, so might as well let you meet them yourself!” he said as he reached out to the large doors. Demoine swung the doors open to a beautiful, marbled floor room that echoed the creaking doors as they opened. The walls held murals that were freshly cleaned and dusted and held the visage of Tisos that came before, and images of the Kantara and Huxwell for any homesick military leader. In the middle of the large and illustrious room stood a large table that held a detailed map of Allkline. Small wooden figures of army men bearing the Arkin flag sat atop the paper perfectly placed showing every position the Arkin’s held. Soren should have been fixated on such a thing. It could have told him exactly how and where for his rebels to hit and where to avoid. It could have helped him get Tucken and Kei to the west. Yet he was more focused on an old raggedy man dressed in his shabby uniform.
“No.” Soren said to himself as his heart sank into the deepest parts of himself. His body shook as if he had been stricken instantly with a sort of illness. “Anyone, but him. Why him?”
“Sargent Demoine. Glad to see you have returned...With one extra soldier as well.” Another young man said as he stood up to greet the group. He had perfectly combed back black hair and an orderly uniform. He stood with a rigid and precise stance and with the face of utter curiosity hiding behind his austere persona. The group all quickly mustered to attention. Soren followed with quick pace; it was like second nature to him now.
“Captain Luko, sir!” Saregent Demoine called out. “We found this lone soldier at Dunton, sir. He was the only survivor, sir!”
“Dammit, at ease!” The old raggedy Commander said hitting the table in aggravation. Soren shuddered with the boom of the loud man’s voice. “How do you expect a statue to give a full report?” The Commander threw his chair back and awkwardly stomped his way to the side of the captain. “Now, explain yourself. Tell the story like you would a mate, no sirs or dancing monkey buffoonery, just plain story telling.”
“Yes s-...Yes.” Demoine almost slipped into the military tradition right away, but caught himself and started over from the top, telling a story to the pair. “We were sent out to scout a possible town the pair of fugitives could be hiding, while of course the main company, led by you both, would continue down the small roads until landing here for resupply. Once we got close to the town, we found a lone soldier a quarter of a mile down the road from the entry into town. He explained to us the best he could what he witnessed, and I'll let him explain more himself, but he brought us into town, and we searched for any survivors.”
“What happened in Dunton?” The salt and peppered old Commander questioned, curiously. “Utter annelation...Not one person left alive. Birds s-s... It was birds. Just birds. They tunneled through weak spots and picked at flesh until it was raw enough to slice through. It was evil, plain and simple.”
“Effective though, it seems. Was it effective enough to do our job for us? Any bodies that looked like heretical whistleblowers or some demagogue rebel leader?” The stoic, and abrasive young Captain questioned.
“None that we could find. I sent one of my men back toward Huxwell, to update the Kantara on the matter, hopefully they will begin investigating further.”
“I’d say its settled then. Your quest has swiftly ended, with barely a hand raised.” The other older gentleman at the table said with a laugh and a swig from a flask he pulled from the side of his muddied boot. “Two sorry saps, sadly passing in a dirty farm town. A petulant pair picked by birds!” He laughed to himself before entering a coughing fit as his drink slivered down the wrong pipe wanting to choke him just as the disguised rebel wished he could. “A sad day when twin flames burn out so quickly.”
“We should hold out here, while we wait for a message from the investigation team, I'm sure the Tiso has sent out by now.”
“Impossible.” The Commander said with certainty. “High General Himmer. You have heard the tales of the Wolf. You truly believe there is no possibility he could survive such a situation? Adapt to it? We’ve seen him do it many times before.” he said, turning toward the table where Himmer sat rocking back and forth in his intricate chair. Himmer gave a simple shrug a took a swig from his flask again before beating his chest into submission as the whiskey trailed down it, burning his esophagus.
“Hell, we even witnessed it in Falmis, have you all already forgotten about Colonel Krebs...Officer Grumsby? Am I the only one who remembers them?” His voice became tighter, like a cannon of emotion was close to firing outwards and hitting everything around. Captain Luko dismissed the men. Soren was curious enough to want to watch, but he knew this was his perfect moment to escape without making it easier on them to blow his cover.
“Mr. Hein!” Luko gritted his teeth.
“High ranking men, men I fought with, you fought with!” Aldous said, aiming his finger at the High General. “They are dead because of this monster, this mad rabid wolf, and all you can do is shrug, act like its over just like that? Sitting cozy at the end of the world in a damn uninhabitable wreck of a fort!”
“Mr. Hein!” Luko’s voice grew louder, and more brash, yet Aldous was too blinded by rage and despondency to hear anything but his own spiteful cruelties.
“I am a damned Commander! No matter what the Tiso and his scheming Advisors say!” The rage that Captain Otto Luko witnessed, the fearful fury of the Commander as his head swiveled around to him and spat those words was more than he had seen in any of his own men. Enough to stop a raiding party on the shores of Severos, or to board a ship without firing a cannon on the coast of Sarin Seal. Luko did not flinch though. He straightened his coat and cleared his throat and began. “Commander...I would recommend you watch what words you choose to speak. Now how about we take a walk around this...Dilapidated structure.”
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“You’ve lost people.” Otto stated bluntly as he walked in the same slow rhythm of the Commander. “I am sure they were good Arkins.”
“They were good people.” Hein muttered.
“Isn't that the same? Arkin, people. Huxwell, Dunton, Nobay even. It is all people, and they are all Arkin!” Captain Luko said, stroking at his nationalism pridefully. Hein didn’t answer, there was no reasonable answer for such words. “Who were they to you?” Luko asked, evaporating the silence.
“The very last breath of a dead era.” The old raggedy Commander leaned himself against the battlements and looked down on the small farmhands and builders below. The people, that people like Luko would call insignificant, proletariats not worth a damn unless building for the military or the crown. “I always saw myself as a man of the future, you know?” He looked off toward the horizon, toward where Huxwell would stand, and though the distance was impossible to see it, like a mirage he felt as if he could see the peaking silhouette of the Kantara in front of the sun. “Always saw myself as a warrior of progress, making up for the mistakes of the Lestares’, the Arms of Scion, hell even the Ancients before the vaults...You know what I've concluded in my old age? What fraught conclusion I have arrived at through all the warring, death, and loss on and off the battlefield...Whatever we were before, can't have been much better than this.” He growled as he pushed himself away from the edge of the battlements.
A long silence followed between the two warriors. Aldous tried to wipe the anger and sadness from his face to no avail before he spoke again. “I had a son you know. Good kid, good warrior.” A woesome murmur fell from his lips. “I like to think that I tried to create a world fit for a good kid like that. That all the sins of the father were not in vain. Then I look upon people who should be tending their farms in yet instead they are made to tend to rubble of a time past, men who should be honored for their loyalty are cut down and villagers who only lived simple lives are smited for no particular reason.”
“The world is cruel, Hein.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Aldous fanged his teeth at the young Captain. “I thought we had worked to bring order, yet instead it seems nothing has changed since the time of Ancients.”
“Watch your words very carefully…” Luko said putting his hand toward his holster. Aldous Hein’s eyes locked onto Luko’s movements and a sad pitiful laugh of pain came from him.
“You are right.” He conceded. “You are right Mr.Luko. I must be tired. Our long trip has begun to wear on me so soon from the start.”
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The sun slowly fell from the sky and the orange hue that signaled the twilight hour began. Soren had pulled more work than he had in a long time. It took immense precision in his acting to keep from having to show his face throughout the day. Sargent Demoine appointed him to another Sargent who lacked a few men. Sargent Takkle, a man with a ridiculous wispy voice that seemed not demand much respect from his men. It gave Soren enough wiggle room to roam the base easily throughout the day. Yet he had turned up nothing on rumors or whispers on where they believed Tucken or Kei were. Most of the time this would be a good thing, but Soren needed some way of finding them, and hiding in their own ranks, was not helping.
As the twilight hour began to fade, and the darkness began to slowly grip hold. He witnessed something in the last rays of light that touched the fortress. It fluttered in the light, like a beacon, and moved so unnaturally that it caught his eye before he had even known. The deepest blue resting on the wings of a butterfly. It danced and swayed in the light as if it was waiting for him. No other soldier in the base seemed to pay it any mind and walked around it like it was no different than ash from a chimney. Soren moved toward it. It rushed away from him, and the light seemed to follow it. He rushed down the stone stairs as if his body had a mind of its own, as if his subconscious knew better than his logical mind.
And he seemed correct in this theory. He had strayed so far away from the entrance of the fort; he must not have noticed the last carriage had come through of the day. Oddly enough this was supposed to be part of his duties, but the strange man that was his Sargent had given up trying to make him or the others under him work and took to doing all their tasks himself. Needless to say, Sargent Takkle, did not seem in good shape or high spirits at hour of the day.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
The butterfly rested atop the carriage roof, that seemed to be more of a cage. It held a familiar looking man inside the cage. The black rings around his eyes and the shaved head gave most of it away, yet the fur coat and combat boots the guard exiting from the driver's seat was holding confirmed it for Soren.
“Who’s the prisoner?” Soren said as he walked toward Sargent Takkle as he helped the driver quickly sign off his paperwork.
“A good catch, that's what!” The driver cackled to himself.
“One of the worst crooks in the territory.” Takkle added.
“And one of the bigger fish in the Smuggler Guild’s Pond, from what I hear.”
“How’d ya catch ‘em?” Soren asked, preying for information.
“We stopped Smuggy, here on the road while out scouting the area, he was heading this way from Dunton with a couple large crates on his buggy. Put the two together and we got a good stop outta it. Tried to pay us off with some goodies. Don’t think we aint taking some off the top, but we definitely made sure to take him too!”
“Please, for the love of all that is good do not call me Smuggy...” The prisoner begged knocking his head on the iron bars.
“He will be spending sometime here. Once all the paperwork is filed, he will be sent to the deepest parts of the mining prison.” Takkle said ignoring the prisoner.
After some time as the night moon rose and the night air became cool, so did the concrete floor the prisoner laid on. He tried his best to remain calm in his cell, thinking up some sorta of scheme to get out of his predicament. Befriend the no nonsense guard that took a walk down his hallway every thirty minutes, bribe the other prisoners beside him with claims of riches if they would get rowdy in their cell. Maybe then he could try to pickpocket the guard's keys if he gets close enough. Not many full proof plans came to mind. Then he heard yelps and banging coming from down the hall. The sound of a scuffle, boots scraping the ground, metal cutting the concrete walls; Bones and meat squishing. Something interesting was happening.
It became quiet for some time. The smuggler thought that maybe whatever interesting thing that happened was happening for someone else in the jail. He closed his eyes and laid his head against the cold concrete floor again and began plotting his escape once more. His plotting was rudely interrupted by the sound of wet boots squeaking along the dirty grey concrete. His attention peaked, knowing that whatever interesting thing that was happening, was now happening near his cell. Maybe he could join in on the action, he could use this interesting moment to his advantage. What he didn’t expect was the gruff voice that pierced through his cell bars.
“You’re looking rough, Ginn.” Soren said with his signature grin Ginn began to despise.
“Took you long enough.” Ginn Locke calmly picked himself off the ground and leaned against the wall of his cell. “Though, I already had at least three full proof plans that you have rudely decimated with your brutishness, I assume based on the blood on your boots and fists.” He aimed his finger towards each. Though he failed to mention the fleshy chunks that soiled Soren’s fatigues and the smear of blood that dripped from his forehead that most definitely was not his own. “Cass...Everett.” Ginn read off the name tag sewn onto Soren’s chest. Ginn quietly mulled over it in his mind before blowing raspberries and sarcastically commenting, “abhorrent name for you, I quite like the other one better!”
“Do you want outta here or not?” Soren said with exasperation in every word. He had known the smuggler long enough to know he was full of himself. He knew he was his only ticket out.
Ginn looked the bloodied man up and down for a moment, before answering. “That would be quite nice, thank you.”
“I need information.” Soren said, getting to the point.
“Ah, yes, to where the whistleblower and his new companion are right? Quite a quick turn around on companions you have, don’t you?” Ginn said smugly. “Told you not to bother with the shrimpish man, but I suppose it at least allowed you this opportunity to be my knight in... Sanguine armor.”
“You know something!” Soren thrusted his body closer to the bars. “Ginn, you better tell me.” That small line of dialogue was enough for Ginn Locke to know he went from having the worst cards in this game of colloquy to a true royal flush.
“Quid-pro-quo. How lucky we are to have fascinatingly both needed one and other and found each other at the same time!” the quick-witted smuggler said with a coy smile.
“Except, ones in a cell and the other can very easily walk away.”
“If you wish to walk around the whole territory in circles, and miss my contact in Nobay, yes, walk away.”
Ginn watched as Soren stood silent. His lips curled into his mouth and his fists balled so tightly he could see his knuckles turn white. Without a word, he slipped away for a moment and ripped a key from one of the guard's belts. The smuggler heard one last bash of rage echo through the jail, the cracking of bone and the smack of fleshy thuds on meat. Soren’s boots stomped across the floor as he came back to the cell and handed it to Ginn. “Take this, start freeing the prisoners, but make sure they stay here for the time being. We are gonna need all the help we can get.”
“It’s the middle of the night, why would we need help? I recommend we simply slip out the door while we can, leave the key with the cell next door, voila, we have done are kind deed of the day, hell you’ll have done two of them!” Ginn’s flamboyant charm didn’t find any effect on the lethargic and jaded rebel
“We aren't, leaving these people behind...” Soren said pulling his hand cannon from his holster and checking rolling the chamber. “Keep them here until I get back.” Soren clicked his chamber back into place and pulled down the hammer. Ginn swung the cell door open and with swift motion found Soren inches from his face. His eyes, deadly serious. “If I don’t find you here. I will make sure your body meets the same fate of those you scavenged in Dunton.”
“Menacing...”
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Unlike many moments Soren had to beat the odds, this time he had a plan. Earlier in the day as he reconned the fort and tried to learn all he could about what they knew of him, Tucken and the newly found Kei, he spotted a small armory. He had no idea what may lie inside, but it was worth a try. They could surely escape easy enough in the middle of the night like the slender smuggler wanted; No guns needed. A small distraction here or there and a quick pace into the woods nearby, but he knew better, he knew how the Arkins were. They were pulling farmers from their fields to work on the fort, they were trying to clear the rubble and make a quick passage to the west, this fort had to go. It had to be seized, and then demolished.
One guard stood in his way. Guarding the armory with a warm cup of coffee in hand and his rifle dangling from its strap on his side. “Can’t sleep, eh?” He gave a nod to Soren as he approached. “Cal, right? Guy from Dunton? ‘Musta been a shit show there, that damn rebel and his traitor friend.” He had yet to notice that large knife in Soren’s hands; hilt side up. “Bless the Tiso, for your survival, eh?”
“Fuck the Tiso!” Soren spat from his mouth like venom. Before the soldier could react, he had been pinned to the Armory with a knife protruding from his chest and the hand of an emotionless Soren twisting it deeper.
The soldier whimpered and looked up at the face of his own killer with sorrowful eyes. He placed his hands over Soren’s as if he believed in his last moments, he could save himself from his fate by simply gently tapping Soren’s hands away. “Why?” He painfully whispered. “Please...help... It hurts...” Soren thrusted the knife out of the soldier as his blood gushed out to the dirt and concrete. The man slid down the concrete wall beside the door to the armory. Soren didn’t take a moment to even look at the lifeless man and rushed inside.
Inside the armory were shelves wall to wall stocked with weapons, ammo, explosives. Enough power to take down the Kantara. It was obvious they were stocking up for war. The fort would be used as a supply depot once the rubble was cleared. This wasn’t in the card anymore, not with Soren here.
“You emptied the cages? The men are ready?” said Soren rushing back into the jail.
“Took a little convincing...But yes. They are still here.” Ginn said sarcastically guiding his hand to the cells. Soren followed and found many of the prisoners anxiously waiting, yet some seemed to be packed into a cage.
“Ginn...”
“Yes?”
“I see an issue, do you see the same issue?”
“Ah, the people in the cell?”
“Yes...”
“I had some trouble getting them to stay.”
“Please get them out.” Ginn nodded and opened up the cage to the imprisoned prisoners. “Everyone, listen up!” Soren called out as the caged ones piled into the crowd. “I know nothing of why you are here or where you have come from, none of that matters now. Some of you I see are Rel, some of you are of man. You all have lost something, whether that is Sjal or your own humanity to these fake men, these machine men. They will do the same to the west. Right now, they are clearing the rubble of the pass to march their forces into the west and do what they have done to you, to all beyond those mountains. Farmers, fathers, Rels, mothers and daughters. They won’t stop. Their creed demands them to dominate. I do not claim to have the means to stop them, but I do know how to slow them. Right now, there is a brave and honorable man on his way to warn the west of their impending war. If this passage is cleared it will already be too late by the time he gets there. I ask for your help. I have cleared the way to the armory, take what you need and crumble this fortress with me! Burn it to the ground and destroy the passage to the west!” The men cheered and hollered in unison ready for battle.
The siege of Maligg had begun. The imprisoned men had now spewed out from the cramped door of the prison and rushed to pillage the armory. Taking every weapon of destruction, they could before laying waste to the fortress. Lead flew from barrels crashing into concrete and glass as fire began to burst from buildings engulfing the screaming soldiers as they rushed out with fire graphing their uniforms to their skin.
Soren stood with Ginn watching the horror and bloodshed take hold. He heard chuckles coming from the odd slender man. “What are you on about?” Soren snipped at the smuggler.
“Just thinking ya’ out did yourself this time, Wolf. Taking a whole fort in the middle of the night with only a ragtag team of prisoners at your disposal.”
“Some of them ran off. Split from the group and ran the moment they had a chance.” Soren said looking to his bloodstained boots. “ ‘Suppose I can’t blame ‘em. They’re the good ones. Only rage and hatred even at war can make a man kill.” Soren looked at the gaunt face of the rat-like man beside him and laughed. “Or I guess in your case coin does the trick too. Go on, get your things and hide. You better not leave without telling me where the others are.” He turned away from Ginn before he could even get a word in and rushed up the steps towards the war room.
He ascended the steps. The cracking of gunfire and thunderous explosions of grenades and mining dynamite that shred flesh from bone brought Soren back to a time in his youth he tried to block from his mind.
The grizzled rebel stared up at the monstrous doors that locked away the leaders of this hellish group of Arkins. Soren turned to the bloodshed below him. The dried grass and dirt was stained crimson and burned with the fury of raging fire as if nature itself was trying to cleanse the fort of such cruelty.
He had to end it. He had to claim the life of the High General, of the Captain…And of the one man he feared most. Commander Aldous Hein. He pulled his hand cannon from his holster and cocked the hammer back.
His mind was racing, he didn’t have a moment to notice a faint glint across the fort. He had not noticed the Captain and Commander had a long rifle fixed on him. The only soldier not attacked by the prisoners. The stray picked up from the last position the Wolf was. He had not heard the words uttered through Hein’s trembling lips as he looked across the way at the vengeful fighter. “Sullus?” The words dripped out of the Commanders mouth like a lead had sprung from an old memory. Before it could fully break open the crack of Otto Luko’s long rifle rang out. The bullet soared through the fortress, racing toward Soren’s skull. It neared the rebel in thought unresponsive to Hein’s cries to stop. Yet someone, somewhere answered the shabby Commander’s tearful screams for peace. The prisoners made it to the pass and the explosions and falling rubble blasted the bullet off course what was supposed to be a fatal shot, cut through the flesh and tissue of the thoughtful rebels side below his ribs.
I’m moments he crashed to the cold concrete below the gross intricate doors of the war room. Those doors, mocking him with their shadow shading him from the moonlight.
“The Pass has fallen!” The captain called out from the battlements as he threw his long rifle to the ground. “Retreat, men! Retreat! The Tiso has no need for a ruined fortress!” He grabbed the dismayed and shell-shocked Commander by the collar and pulled him up to his feet. “Get your fucking self together and be a damn leader!”
“Sullus…” Luko could see in his glistening wet eyes something had completely broke. Maybe the façade of a strong leader or maybe a loyal Arkin. He couldn’t place it yet, and only time would tell. Hein’s eyes stayed on Soren across the fortress. He watched the dying man slipped in his own blood as he tried to pick his failing body off the wet concrete. The captain couldn’t take it any longer and pulled the wet faced commander away having his men cover them as they raced to the safety of the shrouded woods.
Rendia
Before his eyes was nothingness. The abyssal blackness and deathly quiet. He was surprised to feel nothing. Only moments ago he laid in a crimson puddle with the searing pain of a long copper bullet in his side. Yet now as he looked down, there was nothing. No blood, just him and the endless pelagic darkness.
Something felt calming here. As if all burden had been stripped from him. As if his soul had been dipped in soap and scrubbed clean. It was as if all his sins, fears, regrets had been forgiven. Then he heard something in the soundless scape behind him. The fluttering of wings. The blue butterfly circled him playfully and he laughed a hearty and full laugh. It spun him around and suddenly he found a large forest appear before him. He watched as the butterfly danced into the green. A beautiful hum swept through the forest and beckoned him in.
The woods were dense and filled with color. The roots dug into nothingness and ended alone, as if they were suspended in darkness. He had not noticed it before, there was no ground, every direction was nothing, including above and below. Something that would normally have been aberrant and disquieting, but somehow brought a stillness to the worn man’s heart.
Soren came upon a shallow pool that seemed to precariously float among the shadowy dimension. The bottom seemed to drip from its suspended place to the blackness below and disappear into it. A boulder sat perfectly beside it. This little heavenly rest seemed to Soren as the picture of harmonious nature as if a painter had flapped his brush and brought it into being.
Upon the large stone at the end of the water sat a figure of spectral color. The being had a feminine figure yet shined of paranormal blue light. She was impossible to fully comprehend. Whenever he tried to focus on a part of her he would lose the image of another part and try to recapture the sight again. He had an understanding of what the being looked like, yet he did not exactly know for a fact what it looked like. What he did know, for sure, was it had the most beautiful of energy.
Energy…that was something new to the scruffy rebel. He could feel energy…He thought about it for a moment longer before a small giggle came from the blue figure who laid relaxingly on the boulder moving her fingers as the butterfly crawled along them. She spoke not a word, yet he could feel her beckoning him to approach. The blue, hazy shaded figure of a women looked across the suspended pond and guided the rebel to look into it. As he did he saw the reflection. A grizzled man with dirt molding to his face as if it's part of his skin. He watched as the image that looked back at him split into two and then a third. One of the faces grinned through blood staining him. He could see specs of matter slipping down his face as he cackled with joy. The other, on the far right of the three was clean, with a smirk and eyes that seemed determined. They were eyes of action, someone anyone would want to follow. Even Soren would follow this one anywhere. Then there was the middle reflection, a solemn, grizzled man scuffed with dirt from the road and the eyes of thousand yard stare that cried out yet got no answer. A lonesome wanderer, wolf with no pack. “You speak in riddles.” Soren grunted. Then she made it clear.
Three words pummeled into his brain as he grasped at his head to the booming that was inside it. “Demon, Wolf, Sullus.”
“Don't say that name!” He cried out as the roaring whispers in his head faded. “Never say that name!” He looked up to see the blue lady nowhere. In her place was a well-dressed man in a grey and white tartan vest and dress pants. Around him were symbols scratched into the darkness as if his presence pierced the dark realm. It was then that Soren noticed that he was no longer standing before a suspended pond. He stood in utter darkness without a sight around him, besides the well-dressed man. The man smiled and smacked his lips. “I march to one drum.” He announced to Soren. “We apologize for the unintended interruption as it has delayed you from the tasks before you. I have been tasked with giving you three announcements to compensate.” His voice was gentle and soothing, yet rigid and sounded as if he had forgotten how to speak the common tongue. “Your room will be redecorated when the beach runs out of sand.” He Spoke in riddles that ached Soren’s head. “Icy eyes will guide you just as you guide them.” The man gave a devilish grin before giving the last. “Finally, be weary, for there is always a snake hidden within the garden.” The last seemed simple enough, the most understandable out of the three, but Soren wanted answers.
“Who are you?” Soren asked trying to move closer to the odd man.
“The aide-de-camp, the hare, the aimed.” He said, aiming his finger at himself. “They are watcher, benefactor, and Samaritan.” He answered willfully and spoke as if he believed he was speaking plainly, yet to Soren it simply was another riddle. He heard the echos from the forest of a familiar voice. “Time runs short, and our connection is thin.” The man walked toward Soren. With each step scratchy symbols appeared in the darkness around him. “Before we conclude, our lady wishes to show you, what inaction and incompetence shall provoke.”
A gust of wrathful wind flung itself through the darkness smacking Soren like a wave. Emerging through the shadows a large titan of ash and hatred gave a deep and metallic roar. It was unlike anything Soren had seen. It was the image of a monstrosity, the antithesis of the calm the blackness of this place had brought him. As if this man had summoned it forth like an echo from a somewhere deep.
“You show me madness and expect me to understand it?” Soren said as the visage dissipated back into the never ending darkness behind the put together man.
“No such thing, just to know it.” The well-dressed man answered as he rolled up his sleeves and beckoned him toward an endless darkness. Somehow Soren knew to follow.
Air filled his lungs once again. He was gasping for it as he felt a piercing fiery pain below his ribs. He looked toward the wound and found the lanky visage of a crooked man between the rays of the rising sun. The man was stabbing his wound with the barrel of a hot gun. Flesh smelling smoke rose into the air as he cauterized the wound. The pain was unbearable, and he almost wished he was part in the dark nothingness again. He growled a feral growl of pain before laughing.
“What's so funny you bleedy bastard?” The visage of Ginn said gritting his teeth as he strained to keep the barrel steady.
“I’m alive!” Soren laughed with agonizing joy. “How the fuck am I alive?” He choked on his words as he chuckled. He gave a relieved sigh and looked up to the morning sky basking in light and warmth. Ginn thought to himself that he could see a small tear build in Soren’s eyes as he relaxed his body on the concrete of the demolished and ravaged fort Maligg.
“Let's call this even.” Said Ginn falling on the concrete next to him.