The smell of the earth
fills her nostrils as she wakes. Moving slightly causes pain to sear through
her right leg. Clenching her teeth, she ignores the pain and reaches over to
the sword just beyond the reach of her hand. Gripping the hilt of her blade she
drives it into the ground and she pushes herself into a sitting position.
Looking up fear strikes into her heart at the sight of the three orcs seated
not far from her. The biggest of them catching sight of her. Smiling a fanged
tooth smile he gestures to the other two and gets slowly to his feet, drawing
his curved scimitar as he does.
“Should’ve stayed down bitch. We might have
let you live if you had.” Ignoring the pain in her leg she pushes her self
to her feet and hefts the sword in front of her. A wave of dizziness washes
over her as a fresh wave of blood runs down her leg from the gash on her thigh.
Staggering backward slightly, she trembles as the orcs begin to approach, all
three hefting their weapons menacingly. Closing her eyes and waiting for the
final blow, she offers up a silent prayer to the old gods. Hearing the sound of
bow twang brings her back to reality. Opening her eyes, she sees an arrow
pierce the eye of the left-most orc. With a shout a young beast-man comes
charging from the tree line. His ears flat against his head. Mere feet from the
orc he draws two small, wickedly curved daggers from his belt. Ducking under the
first orcs swing he drives his first dagger into its chest. Using his momentum
he jumps up and drives the second into the side of its neck. Ripping it free in
a spray of green blood. Dropping his daggers he pulls the scimitar free from
the orcs hand and in the same movement swings it at the third orc. Stunned at
the young man’s appearance the third orc doesn’t even move as the blade embeds
deep into his skull. Leaping away from the orcs, the young man watches as the
orc collapses in a heap before retrieving his second dagger. Wiping them clean
in the orcs clothes he returns them to his belt and turns to face the woman. At
that moment her injuries gain the best of her and she swoons. Moving with
incredible speed, he catches her before she falls to the ground. Carefully
placing his arms underneath her, he lifts her clear off the ground as if she
and her armour weighed nothing. Carrying her to the nearby river he places her
down just next to the water. Leaving her sitting there he walks over to the
place he appeared and retrieves a small pack from the bushes. As he walks back
she sizes him up. The ears on his head twitch as if listening to everything
around. Eyes larger than a normal human and a tail that sways behind him.
Mesmerised by its movements she stares,
“Stop ogling my tail, please. It makes me
uncomfortable.” His deep voice startles her as he opens the pack. Pulling
a clean shirt from it he tears it into strips. Soaking one part in the river he
comes over and begins cleaning her wounds with surprising gentleness. When he
reaches her face, her eyes meet his as he washes a cut on her cheek. For a
moment time stops and her heart catches in her chest. Before sending a wave of
heat to her face. Ignoring it she asks him a question.
“Why did you save me? I thought beast
people didn’t get involved in the affairs of other races. Especially humans.”
Pondering her question for a moment he stops what he’s doing and sits down on a
rock opposite her.
“Normally we don’t. But I’ve been tracking
that party of orc for four days. Their part of a larger force that sacked a
village east of here. A village we often traded with. They left none alive.
Just left them in the streets for the carrion to pick clean. The rest of the
beast people thought it unwise to get involved. But I’m unlike them. Those orcs
are from a small clan that resides deep in the southern mountains. Near the Deepspire
Cleft. They haven’t been seen this far north in centuries. The fact that they have
come from their territories is more than a cause for concern. Orcs roam in
greater numbers and places that should have remained empty are once again
filling with all manner of dark things. The forest whispers. Something that has
not been seen in an age is coming. And what if you? It’s rare to see a woman
from the southern isles all the way here in the cold north.”
“How’d you know I was from the isles?”
“Your hair is gold in colour. Match that
with your accent and your darker skin. It’s easy.” Smiling she goes to
respond but a wave of nausea overcomes her. Tilting to the side she brings up
the contents of her stomach onto the ground. Swaying once more she begins to
topple but the beast-man catches her once more. Placing his palm on her
forehead, he dips one finger into the wound on her leg and licks the blood off.
Spitting it back out almost instantly, he curses.
“Dammit. Poison. Stay with me woman. You’re
not dying on me today.” Speaking in his language he yells into the forest.
Looking around, her consciousness fades as two more beast people emerge from the
trees.
-
-
Sitting on a rock the young woman doesn’t notice the rain as it begins to fall. Splashing into the river that she sits beside it drowns out all the sounds of the forest behind her. Staring at her hands, she watches as a drop of water falls from her hood and lands on her wrist. Cutting a trail through the blood and grime. As it falls from her fingertip into the river a sob bursts from her lips. Looking up to the sky she silently shouts out a prayer to gods that have long since forsaken the world. Streaming down her face, she can’t stop the tears as they begin mixing with the rain. Getting to her feet she turns to the trees and screams. All the pain and sorrow tearing free from her at that moment. As silence reigns once more she falls to her knees, landing heavily on the now muddy ground. As her black hair falls free from her hood, she looks to the left seeing her sword leaning against the rock she was just sitting on. The once silver blade now coated in the thick black blood of orcs. In anger, she grabs the blade and moves to throw it. Bringing her arm back to hurl the blade, she stops as crashing comes from the trees behind her. Turning she watches as three orcs come bursting through the trees, the trophies of the hunt clattering loudly together. Catching sight of her the leader smiles a sickening smile and gestures towards her with a barbed whip in hand.
“Looks like lucks on our side boys. Hello pretty. You’ll make a nice addition to our master’s caravan you will. Pretty face like yours will get a nice price at the market. So, what say you put down that little sticker of yours and come quiet like?” Raising her blade, she grinds her teeth.
“Orc filth. I’ll go nowhere with the likes of you.” At her defiant words, a sadistic look crosses his face.
“Well then. Guess we do this the hard way. Bring the human bitch to me boys. And don’t be none too gentle about it.” At his gesture, the two other orcs pull their weapons from their belts. Smiling they begin crossing the distance towards her. Anger surges through her and power wells up within. As her eyes start glowing red, her hair begins to change to a deep crimson colour. A look of terror crosses the orcs face and he screams.
“Phoenix born! Cut her down fools before it’s too…” Faster than an arrows flight she covers the distance to the leader. With a single slash of her sword, she beheads the orc, black blood spraying into the air and increasing the grim already covering her. Advancing on the two remaining orcs she cuts them down before they have a chance to react. Stepping clear of the last body as it falls lifelessly into the mud, she walks back the rock and collects her pack. Hefting it onto her back she looks back at the three bodies. With a gesture, they all burst into flames. The fire burning unnaturally In the rain. Turning her back on the burning corpses she sets off into the trees. Across the river, a young man watches as she disappears through the trees. As he retreats through the trees he smiles to himself. Climbing onto a nearby horse he sets off through the trees at a slow walk. Beginning to whistle to himself before long. -
Walking down the jetty, a lone fisherman looks on in horror at the town he once called home. Awash in a sea of flame, tears fall from eyes from more than just the smoke. A crunch of footsteps on rubble diverts his attention as a man clad in black armour steps away from the wall.
“It seems one insect escaped the boot.” As he begins to walk towards the fisherman, a black greatsword, phases into existence. Ignoring the soldier’s sword and advancing, the fisherman removes his hat revealing a middle-aged face with a scar rubbing from temple to jaw on the left side. Letting the hat fall to the ground he reaches into his shirt and begins to talk as he closes the distance to the soldier.
“Bound by the chains of fate are those who walk the knifes edge. For if they falter in their steps, only the void will await them.” Halting his advance the soldier points his sword towards the fisherman and in his arrogant high tone demands a question.
“What would a mere fisherman, from haven, know of fate?” Pulling a small plain ring from inside his shirt he looks at the solider, a look of sadness crossing his face briefly.
“More than most. Shall we see who’s fate rings true here?” Without waiting for the soldier’s reply he places the ring on his right hand. Blue light blooms from it the moment it settles on his skin. Stepping forward as armour coats his body the fisherman waves his hand and a single-edged longsword appears. Grasping its hilt he charges towards the soldier with barely a sound. Shouting the soldier closes the remaining distance and with lightning speed, swings his sword. With the clash of steel, sparks fill the air as the older man stops the blade dead. From behind a piece, timber falls to the ground and both men move, their battle beginning in earnest.
-
Laying under the boughs of an ancient oak tree the man breathes a relaxing sigh. Far overhead the stars shine. Gazing up, a sense of peace settles over him. Leaving back further into the soft undergrowth beneath the tree, he closes his eyes and begins to hum. From the nearby trees comes the sound of a branch breaking, followed by movement. Instantly alert the man rolls to his knees picking up his bow as he does so. Reaching around a root, he draws an arrow from a nearby quiver and with practised precision, knocks and draws It in one movement. Fletching against his check he sights down the bow and waits patiently as the crashing gets closer. At last, the crashing reaches a crescendo and from the foliage, a pure white elk emerges. Taller then a horse, the creatures shite fur shines in the moonlight. Smiling the man lowers his bow, retuning the arrow to the quiver before getting to his feet. Brushing the leaves from his knees, he props his bow back against the tree before turning toward the creature standing in front of him. Intelligent black eyes meet his own and seem to weigh him. Holding his hands to either side in an open gesture he speaks in the language of the elves.
“Come friend elk. Myself and my companion mean you no harm. We have naught to offer but my company and that I offer freely.” Finishing with a bow the man walks back over to the tree and sits down with his back against the trunk. As he does so an old wolf slowly walks out of the trees and sits next to him. A gentle breeze blowing through the clearing brings a scent of flowers and a slight rustle from the trees nearby. Ears twitching the wolfs hackles rise and he growls. Placing his hand on the wolfs head he talks in the common tongue of men.
“Easy old friend. Tomorrow is soon enough for chasing fancies. Leave it till then.” With a grumble, the wolf turns on the spot and settles in next to the man. Gesturing to the free space next to him, the man beckons to the elk. Moments later the creature walks over and with a grace belying its size, seats itself on the ground nearby. Grinning to himself the man settles back in and starts to hum once more. Before long the elk’s eyes close and it begins breathing slowly. Soon after the mans humming stops and is replaced by deep breathing. Shifting the wolf moves to be against the man before it too falls to sleep. In the nearby tree, watching the Clearing with a growing level of curiosity the young woman’s green eyes seem to shine in the moonlight. -
The lamp is set low but it’s just enough for me to read over the letter I have penned to my father.
Dearest father,
The weather is starting to turn here now. Days grow shorter and the nights colder. My English is coming along well as you can see. I am now able to read and write it fluently. I am still struggling with the been able to speak it, however. The town is doing well and we received your last shipment earlier than expected. I so wish I could join you in America. The sights you must be seeing whilst there. But I know it is my duty to stay here and look over the estate. That reminds me, I have exciting news father. Arianna is pregnant. The doctor said she is four months. I’m excited and nervous about becoming a father. I wish you were here for I could surely use your guidance. The other piece of news I must give you is of a more disturbing nature. It seems we have a killer in the town. Three bodies have turned up in the last two months. They were all torn to pieces and has strange marks as if they had been devoured. The watch is working tirelessly to bring this matter to a close as soon as possible. People in town have taken to calling this killer the beast as he eats his victims. Even claiming to have seen a large animal stalking that high moors. It is nothing but fear and superstition driving such nonsense. I have no doubt that it is a man we are searching for. A deranged man but a man just the same. I hope both you and mother are in good health and will return soon. You are sorely missed. Well anyway, father it is getting late and I must be rise early on the morrow to send this letter and continue the search for this killer.
Yours sincerely
Pierre
After reading over my letter for the final time I sprinkle some sand on it, before rolling it up and sealing it with wax and my seal. Placing the letter on my desk I stand up and stretch. Looking to my bed I feel a rush of love at the woman sleeping there. Walking over I sit down next to her and brush her blonde hair off her face. Even though I was gentle she still wakes and looks up at me.
“Pierre?”
“Yes, my love. I am sorry for waking you. Go back to sleep.”
“Will you be coming to bed.”
“Very soon my love. I just need to pack away my desk first.” With a smile, she closes her eyes and before too long her breathing becomes even again as she falls back to sleep. Walking back to my desk I quickly pack up my writing tools and prepare to myself for bed. As I’m about to close my draw I hear a sound that sends chills running up my spine. A deep howling sounds from outside followed by a woman’s scream. Pulling my pistol from the desk draw I start to walk towards the window. A shadow covers the window for a brief moment before it exploded inwards. Standing in the moonlight is a creature that I’ve never seen before. I raise my pistol and it roars and leaps at me.
