Saurus – (1)
When the sun rose that following morning to paint the sky the colour of beaten copper, Saurus felt as though his body had been sapped of all its energy. Alaric, his son, was rocking peacefully in front of him. The Great Elk blew air through its nostrils, forming jets of steam against the cold morning air. The grassland surrounding them was laden with dew that sparkled like drops of molten gold.
“We’ll get you a Master when we reach Leeside,” Saurus whispered in his son’s ear, “Just hold on son.”
Alaric didn't respond, his head drooping down into his lap, Saurus lifted him like he had many times already. His son was catatonic for the most part, stirring briefly for moments at a time to mumble incoherent words. The Great Elk seemed to slow its pace when Alaric mumbled as if it were trying to make sense of the incessant mumble. The Great Elk that found Saurus and his son, led them through familiar stretches of woodland and canopy; they were heading east Saurus confirmed tracing the sun's arc above.
Despite what Saurus had witnessed at Wetbrook, the world around him seemed to have taken little notice. Birds continued to chirp; trees continued to sway slightly in the wind, and the world seemed as unblemished as ever.
On the first night following the battle for Wetbrook, the Great Elk led Saurus to a stream where he could undress and clean out his wounds. His left arm had been punctured, and by the time he removed his gauntlets, the blood had already congealed into a muddy crust up his arm. The laceration that caused the blood had sealed, but Saurus saw yellow puss begin to form deep within the wound. If the wound became infected before he reached Leeside, he could always consume the Nymph bean, its healing properties were unrivaled in all other forms of natural healing.
The memory of the Nymph bean caused Saurus to look over at his son. Alaric was leaning against a boulder, drooling slightly as he looked up at the canopy, the Great Elk was kneeling beside him. Saurus considered just how enormous that beast truly was at that moment; it was no surprise it could bare both his and Alaric’s weight with ease. Saurus retrieved the Nymph bean, rolling it around between his fingers, he wondered if it could heal his son. ‘Leeside first’ he concluded. His son was not in any mortal danger Saurus believed, so instead, he would see what a Master had to say first.
When they reached the Dober cliffs, the elk slowed its pace dramatically; its antlers scrapped against the rockface wall at times, causing nesting birds above to scatter and take flight like a shifting black cloud. The ocean waves assaulted the rockface below, sending plumes of saltwater to shower them. The elk seemed undeterred by the difficult terrain, but Saurus held Alaric extra tightly. Halfway around the Dober Cliffs, Saurus saw blood. It was mostly washed away from the onslaught of seawater, but the ground still retained traces, like smudges on an old book.
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“Wait,” Saurus spoke absently, looking down at a patch of stained rock. The elk haltered immediately, allowing Saurus to dismount. Alaric leaned forward, his arms hanging limply over the beast’s back; Saurus knelt to inspect the blood.
Beside shallow trenches in the rock floor that filled with seawater, Saurus saw the first signs of combat. The ocean to his right roared defiantly, sending sea spray to mist across his face. In some areas of the rock, feint white lines were etched in broad strokes. Saurus stroked them, tracing the lines with his fingers, the silvery-white lines felt smooth.
‘A blade cut into this rock’ he summarised. Saurus approached the rock's ledge, peering down over the vast ocean below. Waves of curling foam smashed against jagged stone, but Saurus saw nothing among the roiling chaos of tempest water. The elk let out a horn of noise as if anxious for Saurus. Saurus retreated from the edge, realizing his hands were sweaty.
‘Is this your work Hadwin? Did you even make it to Leeside my brother?’ Saurus remembered the gut feeling he had gotten when Hadwin rode off from the Whitegull Inn. The feeling he would not see that man again. He felt as though the world was closing in about him. Everyone he knew and loved was vanishing all around him. He mounted the Great Elk, pulling his son up to rest on him, Alaric mumbled something incoherently, but the words were washed away under the roaring ocean to Saurus’ right.
Saurus tucked his legs into the Great Elk, spurring it forward. He felt an enormous weight form in his stomach. If he arrived at Leeside and Hadwin wasn’t there…what would he do? Who would share in his loss? Over a thousand souls eradicated in a single act, like a thousand candles being extinguished in a great wind. Saurus wondered how long it would take before the Empire became aware of the mass slaughter at Wetbrook. The more Saurus thought about it, the less he cared. All he wanted to do was get the Wetbrook, help his son, find this ‘God of Many Eyes’—finish the job.
*
It took them five days before they reached Leeside. Saurus managed to sustain himself and Alaric on the local flora, Alaric mostly just swallowed any food Saurus placed in his mouth, so Saurus chewed some of the tougher fruits for him, only feeding him the softest portions to avoid choking. The prospect of a hot meal grew ravenous with each passing day, The Great Elk, however, seemed content with its grazing. It led Saurus to freshwater every night as if it had planned for this journey in advance. Saurus said a prayer to the Wise One for guidance, before sleep captured him.
Saurus broke the horizon that overlooked Leeside, and for a fleeting moment, Saurus thought it had been abandoned. A large collection of tents had been erected outside the city walls that reminded him painfully of his own army tents. The city’s usual ruckus seemed muffled somehow as if the city slept. Something was wrong. Saurus traced the city walls for signs, hoping against it all, to not see the scuttling of a spider. His heart pounded hard in his chest, but a wash of relief flowed over him when he saw the distant outline of soldiers holding halberds on the wall. The city had not fallen it seemed.
Saurus cast his sight over the tents that were erected outside the walls, he couldn't make sense of it. The only time Saurus had ever seen tents erected so close to a city's walls, was during the mass immigration of Yuanland. Saurus froze, among the tents: a human-bear exited a tent, a gleaming hand-axe at his waist.