“The king…”
An uneasy muttering rippled through the crowd as they took in the state of the survivors.
Dethemina rushed out from the crowd of onlookers and immediately checked Nicon’s pulse, confirming he was alive.
“He’s alive!” She called, then took his hand and teleported him away.
Only a moment of silence came, before a young elf, her belly swollen with child, shoved through the crowd to glimpse the survivors. A long, drawn out wail came from her mouth and she sank to the ground as sobs shook her frail frame. No words were needed to understand she’d lost someone precious on that day.
“Keir h-hasn’t come back,” Another sobbed, “He p-promised me he’d c-come back!”
“Master! Excuse me- Let me through! Master!” Farik pushed his way through, shoving others aside in his desperation to see the survivors and muttering hurried apologies.
“Did you hear? Only four people survived…” The elves whispered among themselves, but Farik tuned out their words as a coiling feeling of dread pooled in his stomach.
Master Orien! Oh Mother let him be alright! He thought, as his heart beat erratically and the feeling that he’d already lost someone precious threatened to send him to his knees.
Please let master Orien be one of the ones who survived! Farik thought desperately as he burst through the mass of spectators.
His eyes quickly scanned the survivors for the familiar grey streaked chestnut hair of his mentor, his heart sinking deeper into despair as he failed to find the person he so desperately sought.
He surged forward, grabbing Alana by the shoulders and crying, “Where’s my master?! Where’s master Orien?!”
Tears streamed down his face, even as he clung to the hope that Orien was elsewhere. Alive.
“He was one of the first…” Alana whispered, “He fought bravely and died bravely…”
Hot, burning anger coursed through Farik and he cried, “Well he should have lived bravely! I’ll never forgive the king for this!”
He shot to his feet and ran away, heart feeling like there was a gaping hole within it. That day, he lost a mentor, friend and father-figure.
<--<< >>-->
Jaron stood beside Jason amid the chaos and cleared his throat, then shouted, “Have you all lost your minds?!”
The crowd hushed and he continued, “We’re in the middle of a war! My condolences to those who lost someone today, but we cannot stay like this! There is a demon army camped in our kingdom and we will drive them out!!”
Oh Mother, I’m awful at rallying people with motivational talks, Jaron thought, But rallying the people against a common enemy usually works…
He thought grimly back to when the first demon war had begun. The five kingdoms had not gotten along at first—not until it became clear that they would all be destroyed if they did not cooperate. And Anhua paid the price of their hesitation.
Dawn came quickly, and Jaron, who’d not slept a wink in the few hours between, sighed, yawning loudly. He’d been making war preparations the whole evening, taking inventory and organising the elves into cohorts based on skill and weapon mastery.
As it stood, the elven army had a dozen different small cohorts, each consisting of some twenty-odd seasoned fighters.
“It’s not enough,” He muttered, “We cannot be sure of victory with these numbers.”
…Yet, all I can do is prepare as much as I can and hope Ziocrat isn’t looking for a lot of new residents of the Ether, Jaron thought, his mind uneasy.
Last time I fought, Alexei was in charge of commanding our forces. This time, I am the most experienced leader…
He found Galion outside Ni’aad, in the command tent on the fringe of the forest and plain. The flickering campfires of the enemy were just barely visible, behind a small hill.
“Galion, I need a rejuvenating spell, please—something to keep my focus for these next critical hours…” Jaron said as he strode in and inspected the rough map laid out on the table in the centre of the room—the very same map Nicon had used only a few hours previously; it’d been moved, along with the supply carts and most of the army.
Galion bowed and uttered a couple of words in Ovaal, and instantly Jaron felt the edge of his fatigue melting away.
“However, remember that this will not ‘magically’ remove your fatigue, only alleviate it. You will feel the full effects in twelve hours, Prince Jaron,” Galion warned.
The rough sound of the demon horn had all of the soldiers alert and they all gathered outside in their cohorts, forming up in lines.
As the morning sun rose and the sky burned orange with streaks of red, the demon army marched forth, coming into view gradually as they passed the hill. The elves tensed, readying their weapons. The back row of archers, led by Aira, nocked their arrows, preparing to draw and fire at a moment’s notice.
Jaron, now mounted on a snow-white stallion, surveyed the plains, burned bare of any vegetation, contemplating the best plan of action. They’d set up a quick barricade of sharpened wooden stakes facing outwards, but ultimately it would not hold long in the heat of battle.
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Caution… we mustn’t be careless, He thought, turning to peer at the new guardians, They are an uncertain variable in my plans. It all depends on how well they perform under pressure… even the strongest of men can crumple under the pressure of war.
Taryn, I have high hopes for… Jason, I am uncertain. He hides too much, suppressing his emotions. Altein is strong. I do not doubt him. His natural power may not be as strong as the others, but his resolve stands strong and unshakable as a mountain—a trusty comrade for sure. I do not think any of them will let me down in battle, although whether they can fight to their full capacity remains to be seen. As for Lirya… it is strange that she awakened proof of her heritage but none of the powers. Alexei’s heir. Well, she will be a formidable force when her true power awakens.
The demon army marched closer, and two figures could clearly be seen at the head of the procession. Jaron scowled, hatred burning in his heart.
The first was a slight demon, with mismatched eyes and blue-green hair.
But the one who kindled the anger within Jaron was the other, larger demon. Standing taller than the other demons, the commander dragged a heavy sword behind him, scraping a large groove in the dirt ground and creating a grating sound. His grin was as hideous as ever, and Jaron glared openly at that demon.
He took a deep breath and calmed himself, berating himself for letting his emotions get control of him and signalling for the army to advance. Jaron rode forward, leading the march, with Jason, Taryn and Altein riding behind him.
Up ahead, the demon general raised a hand and motioned for the army to stop. He stomped forward and Jaron muttered, “If he steps within shooting range, don’t hesitate—stick him full of arrows!”
Whether by coincidence or not, the demon commander stopped just outside of arrow range, shown when one of the archers impulsively shot as far as she could and it landed right at the demon’s feet. He sneered, a smirk painting itself across his face as he bent and picked up the arrow, tiny in his massive hands, and crushed it. He opened his fist again and let the broken pieces drop to the ground.
His loud voice boomed over the short distance between the two armies.
“Surrender now, and your kingdom will be spared! I am Tarbork, seventh demon general serving our king.”
Jaron yelled, “In your dreams, ash-face! Tarbork, today I will turn you to ash!”
“Hoh… Jaron Aegivyl. I’d thought you died that day with the rest of your pathetic excuse for guardians,” Tarbork smirked, “Well, now I’ll get the pleasure of ending your life too, elf!”
He killed Alexei, Jaron thought, and destroyed Anhua, taunting Reyneld with it.
Jarn turned on his horse and rode back, his face blank. He reached the back lines and faced the enemy. Without taking his eyes off the enemy commanders, he said, with a deadly calm, “We are here today to fight and drive these demons from our homeland. Remember the tragedies of the first demon war! We will not repeat history—this time we fight together!”
For a single, split second, everything was silent. Then the demon war horn sounded again, and they began the charge. The demons swarmed forth, running around the commanders, who looked on with stoic faces. Their thundering footsteps increased in volume as they approached, uncaring of each other. Inevitably, one fell and was trampled by the others.
Jaron grimly raised his arm, and waited. When he lowered it, the elven army would attack. He waited, heart beating wildly in his chest, as the demons approached. Still he waited, even as he saw the elves hesitate.
Then, like a moment frozen in time, the demons took another step and Jaron lowered his arm swiftly, yelling, “Fire!”
Instantly, the sky was blanketed in a shower of arrows that rained down upon the charging demons. Chaos was imminent as demon after demon toppled to the ground full of arrows.
Jaron gave the attack order and the elves swarmed forth in their cohorts, heavily armoured warriors at the front carrying massive shields and spearmen behind them.
Taryn shot off at the order, his grey-spotted white mare charging forth and his sword unsheathed and blade glinting in the early sunlight.
<--<< >>-->
In this cruel world, it was kill or be killed. The strong preyed on the weak as everyone fought to survive. Strangely, out of the many emotions swirling within him, fear was not one of them. Taryn felt oddly detached from reality, as if the battle was just a dream. Still, as if some instinct pulled at him, he leaped off his horse, landed on all fours as the two armies clashed. Immediately, he let his ice powers loose, sending sharp icicles into the demons. He raced forward, every footstep freezing in his wake, he swung his blade at the demons, noting with no feeling that they fell very easily. His white hair, braided down his back, flew out behind him, dyed crimson like the clothes he was wearing.
So… demon blood is also red, He thought dimly.
People went into battle with certain emotions—fear, nervousness or excitement. Or no feelings at all. To beat down the raging fear in him, Taryn instinctively bottled away his emotions, letting himself feel nothing as he fought—and killed.
This is… too easy… how can we have been so afraid of the demons if they fall so easily to my blade? He thought, realising quickly that the demons were no match for him.
What a joke! He snorted, throwing himself into battle with renewed vigour. Before he knew it, he’d carved a path of blood and corpses through the thick of the enemy line and disrupted the enemy attack. And, in fact, everything was going well until fatigue got the best of him.
A missed swing and in an instant, the tables had turned.
His life flashed before his eyes as he could only realise, to his dismay, he’d be unable to block the oncoming blow.
Time seemed to stop. He couldn’t move, but nothing else could either.
An echoing voice, hauntingly beautiful and eerie, broke the silence.
“Guardian of silver, I am Iside, goddess of Winter. Dare you make a contract with me?”
The voice belonged to a woman with long, icy locks and a face with the cold blue sheen of frost. Soulful, blue eyes peered from white—almost transparent—eyelashes. She wore a fur coat with a thick, lustrous pelt of white and grey spots and on her head sat a crown of ice, dyed red at the tips.
She continued, “Like I protected the previous guardian, so do I offer the contract to you. Today, you would have died. I can save you that fate—and protect you once more—if you accept this contract.”
Taryn asked, “And what does that contract entail?”
The goddess replied, “Become my eyes and ears—my mortal vessel. I swear upon the name of my grandfather, Haert, that I will not do anything that will cause you harm. My influence upon this world is limited so I ask that you let me live as you do within your body. You’ll not feel a thing and I shall never influence you against your will, but know that most gods cannot harm the mortals on Dargon, else they feel the wrath of the three creators.”
So I am to allow her access to my mind and body… in return I shall not die and, as Jaron has explained, I may be able to harness some of her powers to aid me in battle.
He nodded and said, “I accept.”
For the briefest moment, he thought he saw her face morph into a smile, but then she vanished in a gust of snow with only a few parting words that were soon carried off into the winds.
“I thank you, contractor…”
Just like that, time flowed again and Taryn was on the brink of death. But, as the demon’s weapon neared his neck, it was thrown back violently before it hit him, as if there was an invisible barrier protecting him. It was, of course, the goddess’ promised protection.