Curse

danikt · Jan 25, 2006, 12:22 AM // 00:22

This is my first attempt at short fiction, even though its not very short.

I'm looking for feedback, so please, if you read it, take a minute to let me know your opinion. Thank you and enjoy!

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The grawl had come from the east, hoping to descend on the sleepy town in the early dawn. There'd been almost a score of the small primitive beasts; and though they stood no taller than four feet they could still kill a man, just as any large animal could.

It was unusual for the grawl to venture near human settlements, and until now, completely unheard off to see them attack one of these settlements. What was most surprising was that they had been armed; most with crude bludgeons but a few with hammers and bows. The weapons had been in horrid disrepair but still effective enough to do their job.

Reports had been coming in regularly from travelers and local farmers of grawl sightings, and more recently, attacks. Lauron had heard many of these tales, and had even seen signs of the grawl. For this reason he had moved his traps and hunting northeast of the reported areas.

He smiled to himself as he made his way back to town from his morning hunt. The sun was just starting to rise in the sky and he welcomed the warmth it brought. As he walked his mind drifted back to a conversation, two nights ago; the real reason behind the change in his hunting pattern.

--

Everyone in town had been talking about the grawl attack, so it came as no surprise when Trina brought it up that night. They’d found some time that evening to escape; to take a walk, to watch the sunset. It was late summer and the setting sun made a spectacular sight, casting its light over the Falls. It was Trina’s favorite place, next to her garden of course. His only regret that evening was claiming that he’d seen signs of the grawl. His offhanded remark had a most unpleasant consequence.

“And how long ago was this”, she asked, pushing herself up onto her elbows, from where she had rested on his chest. Her sharp elbows had a rather uncomfortable effect on his body.

He opened his eyes to find her staring at him; she was nervously biting the corner of her mouth.

“About a fortnight ago”, he recalled.

A look of alarm, bordering on fear, crossed her face.

“When were you going to tell me of this?”

He closed his eyes and tried to relax, pretending like he hadn’t noticed the look on her face. He eluded the truth by saying, “There wasn’t much to tell. It was an abandoned camp, about a days’ travel southeast of town. Nothing to concern you with.”

He opened his eyes, hoping his words had had their desired effect. It’d been easy to ‘forget’ to mention it to her. There was all ready so much on both their minds.

She stared at him silently; the fear had been replaced with anger.

“Nothing to concern me with? Do you really think so little of us? That your safety shouldn’t be a concern of mine?”

She’d pushed herself up and was now sitting with her legs curled beneath her.
“And what if something had happened to you, if you had gotten hurt, or worse. Should that be none of my concern?”

“Trina, its not what I meant”, he tried as she drew quiet. “I just didn’t want to worry you any further. With all the rumors of war and your father’s failing health.” He’d sat up while he spoke.

Immediately it was clear that he shouldn’t have mentioned her father. They’d thought that as the summer heat faded, his health would improve, it hadn’t. It was beginning to seem more and more likely that he wouldn’t live to see another spring.

Trina knew this, and watched over him daily. Watched, as her father, who’d been a pillar of strength and love for so long, slowly deteriorated. He knew Trina was strong enough to accept this, but other worries gnawed at her mind too. Rumors of war in the north, local grawl attacks, and now him being in danger, it all seemed to come to a pinnacle at that moment.

“You can’t do this to me Lauron. I won’t sit around and hear from some farmer about your body being found in the woods. Or worse, never know what happened to you. If I have to go through that”, her voice had grown quieter as she spoke, and now trailed off completely.

He’d sat and watched her as she'd wrapped her arms around her legs, which were pulled up against her body. He’d been astonished, and would have been overwhelmed, if it’d been the early days of their relationship. She had taught him so much in the time he’d known her, so much about himself, about his strength. He never thought he had so much to offer.

He’d risen swiftly to his feet and caught her up. He held her close and looked into her eyes.

Eyes that had been so bright, brighter then the moonlight around them, bright with unshed tears. He’d stared into those eyes; he’d lost so much of himself in those eyes. He’d realized this and long ago chosen to embrace it. For what stood before him, it was nothing compared to the small price he paid.

“I love you Trina, and nothing is going to keep me away from you. I’m not going anywhere. You mean everything to me. Everything will be all right”, and to seal his words, he had held her; fiercely, protectively.

They had stood there then, in the early moonlight on the northern hills. Afterwards they’d spoken of more pleasant things.

--

It was those things that filled his mind as he crested the last hill before the road that lead west into town. If he hadn’t been so caught up in his thoughts, he would have noticed the sounds earlier. As it were, he didn’t realize what was happening until it was to late.

Two arrows had struck the first horse. The animal, in its death, had caused the wagon to veer off the road and tip over in the ditch closest to him. The man was struggling to cut away the reins holding the two animals. He was yelling something at the woman and boy, and though Lauron couldn’t hear the words, he understood he was telling them to mount.

As Lauron watched in puzzlement, trying to grasp what was happening, an arrow hit the man in the back. He’d been helping the boy mount in front of the woman; and with a cry, he dropped to his knees, supporting himself against the horse. The combined screams of the boy and mother jolted Lauron out of his reverie. He dropped his morning take of furs and sprinted towards the wagon.

He spotted the assailants as he ran. The two grawl were on the opposite side of the road; he hadn’t noticed them earlier because they’d been concealed in the tall grass. Now the grawl had left their cover and were advancing towards the wagon.

He notched an arrow as he ran, his heart sinking in despair, knowing that he was to far away to prevent what was happening. The grawl had drawn their bows for another volley and they wouldn’t miss from that distance.

Later, when Lauron found his courage fading, he’d remember what the father had done. It was a memory of courage, a shining example of love.

With a roar the injured man rose to his feet, striking the horse, he commanded it to flee. As the terrified animal lurched into a run, the father turned, using his body as a shield, towards the grawl. His tactic worked perfectly, the arrows never made it near his family. Instead, they both hit him.

The scream of the boy for his father rattled Lauron’s mind. Fury and rage erupted in him. Fury at the grawl but rage at his helplessness, rage at his wandering mind, and at the distance that lay between him and his enemy.

The lead grawl was notching an arrow to fire at the fleeing horse when Lauron’s first arrow struck it. He’d drawn until his muscles screamed, aimed for the chest, not taking any chances in case his aim was off. He was releasing his second arrow when the first found its mark. The second grawl had only a moment, in which to ponder the sudden death of his companion, before he too joined him.

--

In the aftermath of the attack, Lauron never spoke of the exact details of what occurred that morning. As far as the town folk knew; the grawl had attacked the family while they were on their way to Ashford. The husband had sacrificed his life to give the mother and boy time to escape. The story told of how the mother had protected her son, at the cost of her own life, from the arrows as they made their escape and warned the town of attack.

Grief wasn’t an ordinary thing, so no one questioned the way the boy had chosen to express his. It was easy, for the sympathetic townsfolk, to believe that his repeated apologizing to his deceased parents was a result of his grief. Trina mentioned it to him, but he’d never bothered to offer an explanation, and he never spoke of it to a soul.

How could he tell, it would be like placing blame on the boy. Lauron could never do that to him. The only thing he was guilty of: was loving his father.

How could he have known that more grawl were fast approaching? That his struggle, which caused the horse to slow and turn, had given the second group of grawl enough time to reach the scene. No one needed to explain to him, that if they’d kept running, they’d have gotten through before the grawl had been able to attack. Lauron had seen the haunted look in his eyes, eyes that knew the truth. Eyes full of grief and shame. One for his lose, one for his part in it.

The original plan had been to approach the town using the cover of the trees on the southern side of the road. The grawl had moved slowly, to avoid being spotted and alerting the town to their assault. The wagon had come up from the east, and had almost overtaken the party when two archers were sent to dispatch of it, as the main group stayed concealed.

When the archers fell to Lauron’s arrows, the main force had come to help. Their goal had been to prevent the horse from escaping, with its occupants, and warning the entire town.

--

The boy had turned the animal by the time Lauron’s frantic warning caught his attention. He'd frozen and starred at the oncoming grawl. The look on his face wrenched Lauron’s heart. He’d experienced loss; he understood what it meant to be helpless, to watch, as someone you loved, died in front of your eyes.

Their eyes meet for only a moment, but Lauron knew that his sleep would be haunted by that look. He screamed for him to flee.

The speed and skill with which the boy turned the horse and drove it into a gallop surprised Lauron. They should have made it; they would have made it, if not for the black arrow.

Two grawl had come within arms reach of the horse when Lauron’s shot dropped them both. As he drew another arrow, he silently thanked Master Nente for teaching him that trick; one summer at Foible’s Fair. His next shot killed the only other grawl that was within striking distance of the horse.

He’d known a rush of exhilaration then, seeing the mother and boy galloping away and no grawl near enough to stop them. His mind had started to turn towards the problem of his own escape. Then he saw the Charr.

He didn’t know it as a Charr at the time. Later, when people started asking questions about how organized and well equipped the grawl had been, then did Lauron speak of what he had seen. To him it was like nothing he had ever seen before. It easily towered over the tallest grawl. Its muscular body was covered in fur and green tattoos were burned into its skin. Those tribal carvings seemed to sap his courage and fill his heart with dread.

He stood transfixed as the beast drew its bow and released an arrow at the retreating horse. It should have been an impossible shot; he’d never seen an arrow fly so far and so fast. The arrow was completely black, but even from this distance; Lauron could sense a green aura about it. Which he knew was responsible for its unnatural flight. He'd seen magic before, but not like this, never had he seen it used to kill. For it did just that, killing the mother instantly.

Within a few strides her body had toppled from the horse. Miraculously the boy had managed to stay on the horse, and kept riding. The Charr howled with rage and turned his attention away from the now distance horse to Lauron. He howled commands at the grawl and immediately three of them were running in his direction.

Lauron couldn’t tell if it was his reflexes or fear that saved him. For as soon as the grawl had started in his direction, the Charr roared and drew his bow. He'd all ready been moving though, and the shot missed by a finger’s width. As he'd dove for the cover of the wagon, he felt the arrow’s magic graze his senses. He was instantly filled with a feeling of dread and nausea.

It clawed at his mind, disorienting him. He tried to shrug it off, to push it aside, but it wouldn’t be denied. In the end, he gave into the fear, and used it to spur his retreat. Using the wagon as cover he moved through the ditch away from the grawl and the Charr. It saved his life.

One moment his world was filled with the sound of his pounding heart and ragged breath, his mind struggled to form a single thought beyond escape; and the next, everything was in flames. The wagon he’d used for cover had erupted in flames, and they were quickly spreading, filling the air with smoke.

The paralyzing grip of the magical fear released Lauron the instant the wagon burst into flames. It only took him a moment to gather himself and use the extra cover of the flames and smoke to flee.

--

He went east, using the ditch for cover. He moved swiftly, knowing that the grawl would spot him the moment they passed the wagon’s smoke screen. He scrambled out of the ditch and headed north, making for the hills; he could lose them there.

At the top of the first hill he took cover and watched for his pursuers. To his immediate relief, Lauron saw that only the three grawl pursued him. They’d seen his escape from the ditch and were following his steps. The Charr and the remaining grawl had disappeared.

He contemplated his next move. Drawing on his anger, fueled by his earlier humiliation, he pushed himself, guiding the grawl into his trap. As he maneuvered the hills, he used the memory of the massacre on the road to set his resolve, to ignore the pain in his lungs, for his plan hinged on haste.

He crested a hill and stopped, catching his breath as he waited. The grawl spotted him moments later, and raced towards him. He dropped out of sight and swung west and south. He knew this area well; he’d lead the grawl into an exposed area with no cover. Now he made for the ridge that would offer a perfect view of the enemy.

The grawl paused as they reached the summit of the hill, scanning the surrounding area for him. Lauron was ready, his bow drawn and arrows prepared. They never saw him, the first two died before they knew they were being attacked, the last tried to flee. Without hesitation he released his arrow into its back before it’d taken a step.

Before the body had stopped careening down the hill, he was moving again. Adrenaline roared through his veins, he’d never felt like this before. He felt strangely detached from all the death around him as he made his way back to the road, and the wagon.

--

The burning wagon had died down to a small fire by the time Lauron arrived; he immediately went to the spot where the father had fallen. There he found only bloodstains, which lead west, towards town. He followed them.

The man had managed a stumbled walk at first, but as he lost blood, he had crawled, until even that became too much for him. Lauron found him on the road, twisted up in pain. The arrows had been crude workmanship, and hadn’t penetrated deep, it was the lose of blood that was killing him. The hope he had felt after finding the body missing faded. He knew he wouldn’t live long enough for a healer to reach him.

The man watched Lauron approach, visibly relaxing when he realized he wasn’t a grawl.

“My wife, my boy”, he managed weakly.

“Your boy is fine, he escaped on the horse. Your wife”, Lauron’s voice faltered, he wet his lips, trying to find the words.

“I’m sorry, I tried to save her, they shot her down”, he managed to say.

The man reacted as if another arrow had hit him, this one piercing deeper than any real one could.
“Angie, My Angie.” he whispered as he closed his eyes and lay motionless.

Exhaustion settled over Lauron, all his strength deserted him; in the face of this man’s sorrow, Lauron felt numb. He placed his hand on the man’s chest to see if he still breathed.

His eyes snapped open and he gripped Lauron’s hand.

“My boy, please, watch over my boy” he pleaded with Lauron.

Before he could think about what he was doing, he was nodding his head.

“I will”, he promised. In the face of this man’s courage and need, he could offer no less.

“His name is Markus. Please, take my gold. For the boy”, he gasped with pain as he tried to reach for his belt.

Lauron stopped his movement, taking the purse he’d been reaching for.

“I have it, worry not, your son will be cared for”

“Thank you,” his words were hoarse, barely above a whisper.

“Rest now” he started but didn’t finish, for his words fell on deaf ears. Lauron felt for his heartbeat, he was gone.

With a heavy heart, he said a prayer to Dwayna for the man and his wife; and for their boy. He thought of the boy, he should have reached town by now, he’d be bring help soon. The town. Realization hit him as if someone had showered him with cold water.

Before he finished the thought, he was running. His body screamed in protest, but he didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on it. Dread gripped his heart like an icy fist, how could he have been so stupid.

It’d been a raiding party, the family and Lauron only a distraction. Their goal had been the town, to attack it while the inhabitants were in their beds. He berated himself as he ran; knowing that for the second time today, he was going to be to late.

--

If the Charr had been using its sword hand, Lauron would have died that day. He’d left the road, cutting southeast, heading for the shallows near the mill; he’d be able to cross the river there. The area was wooded and in his headlong sprint he didn’t noticed the Charr until it was almost too late.

The Charr had seen Lauron approaching and using a tree as cover, ambushed him; stepping out from behind the tree with sword swinging. It had wanted to finish him quickly, swinging for a quick kill, for his head. It underestimated Lauron’s speed.

Lauron’s reaction was pure instinct. Diving towards his left, just underneath the sword, he rammed his shoulder into the Charr. It was like hitting a wall, for a moment Lauron’s vision blurred with the impact. As he struggled to orient himself, he was relieved to see the Charr also struggling to rise from the collision. Lauron recovered quickly, grasping for his bow and drawing on the stunned attacker.

Agony exploded in his head, gasping for breath, he stumbled against a tree to support himself. His confusion was short lived, for the fear he had felt earlier returned. He felt it creeping up, surrounding him. He raged against it, tried to fight it, but once he’d focused on it, it seemed to grow, to consume his mind.

A voice screamed at him to run, to flee; he couldn’t tell if it was real or not, it didn’t matter. He fled.

The injured Charr regained its feet, and having lost its sword, it too turned and ran. Lauron saw its retreat as he chanced a glimpse back during his flight; the thought came to him to kill it. One arrow, at this distance, he couldn’t miss, but even though the unnatural attack had subsided, its memory still burned in his mind. He hesitated and the Charr slipped away.

--

Devona was leaving the inn when the horse came flying into town at a full gallop. The inn being the largest building in town, it naturally came straight there. The lad on the animal was beleaguered, sobbing and pleading for someone to help him.

With some patience and help from the innkeeper, she managed to extract his tale. Leaving the boy in the care of the innkeeper, she called for Galt and Lynn as she took the stairs three at a time to her room. Lynn was awake in her room, she ordered her to find Galt and then prepare for battle.
Withdrawing into her own room she donned what armor was unpacked and snatched her hammer from its spot near the door on her way out.

They’d only arrived last night, but events were turning out to be more drastic then Tydus had feared. He’d been receiving reports for almost a week about grawl attacks in the area. The latest one had arrived two mornings ago, and it had been urgent enough for him to warrant sending her, and two of the more seasoned recruits, on a scouting mission.

Normally it was a two-day march to Ashford from Ascalon, but she’d taken the opportunity to give her charges a taste of what life was like for a foot unit in the army. Leaving shortly after noon two days ago, they’d pushed hard. She was pleased with how the two of them had held up under the strain. Even for her, it wasn’t easy covering the thirty leagues between here and Ascalon in that short time.

She was talking with the innkeeper about the local terrain when Lynn and Galt arrived. Even though she’d spent some time in Ashford before, she wanted to make sure her knowledge of the area was current. On their way out, she’d ordered the innkeeper to organize a town militia in case things didn’t go so well for the three of them.

--

She debriefed them as they made their way out of town. They made for the bridge, knowing that the grawl would have to come that way. They arrived without incident but didn’t have to wait long before the grawl came into sight of the bridge. There was half a score of them, and a Charr drove them.

“Lynn, stay back and if you get the chance, kill that Charr.”

They’d taken cover behind the bridge’s posts on their side of the river.

“Galt, try to keep up”, she said as she launched herself from her hiding spot as the first grawl neared the bridge.

She laughed out loud, at the look of indignation on his face, as she slammed her hammer into the first grawl’s chest. The blow knocked the wind out of the beast and crushed its torso, it couldn’t even cry out before it died. She roared as she took one step and turned, crushing the head of the next grawl.

A grawl rushed in on her open side, but one of Lynn’s arrows sprouted in its chest as she turned to meet it. Then Galt was at her side, he bashed his small shield into the first grawl and thrust his sword underneath for the kill. He twisted his sword and kicked the grawl off with his foot.

The remaining grawl hesitate for a moment as they tried to cope with this new threat. The bridge was to small to surround the two warriors and none of them wanted to be the first to assault them head on. Then Galt staggered, lowering his weapon, he took a step back, and then another.

“Watch yourself Galt! It’s a trick, a magical attack. The fear isn’t real”, she yelled at him as she reached over and steadied him.

She’d felt the Charr’s attempts to twist her fears against her, but she’d prepared herself for it and had brushed it aside. This was Galt’s first exposure to such a tactic in the heat of battle and he’d been unprepared. At that moment, with a roar from the Charr, the grawl charged.

She took a step back, giving herself more room, as she parried the untrained attack of the grawl nearest her and drove her own hammer into its side. The blow drove the broken body into a collision with another grawl to her right. She quickly brought her hammer crashing down onto the knocked down opponent. Her glance at Galt showed him locked in combat with two more grawl, she was about to come to his aid when one of them fell to Lynn’s arrow.

Her attention had turned towards the last grawl when she heard Lynn cry out. She spun around to see her on the ground, a black arrow protruding from her right side.

The Charr was an archer, she cursed as she rushed towards it. She switched the hammer to her left hand and with a quick draw and flip of her wrist, hurled one of her belt knives at the Charr.

She grunted with satisfaction as the knife buried itself to the hilt in the Charr’s right shoulder. The Charr staggered and she would have had it then, but at that moment, pain exploded in her back.

The blow knocked her down, but she managed to roll with the momentum. The grawl rushed in, trying to press its advantage. She regained her feet, hammer swinging; smashing the grawl in the side of the head. With a grimace of pain she twisted around, looked for the Charr, but it was nowhere to be found. The beast had disappeared.

The two remaining grawl lost all courage when the Charr fled. Galt finished off the one nearest him and Devona hurled one of her knives at the last as it attempted to flee. Before the knife had hit its target she was moving towards Lynn.

--

Devona found her sitting against the bridge. Lynn tried to smile as she approached, but managed only a grimace, as she clenched her teeth against the pain.

“Just a scratch, Captain”, she managed.

“Be still and let me have a look at that”, she ordered her, as she examined the wound.

The arrow had hit her in the right side, just missing her ribs. To her relief she saw that it had come out the other side. It had been a powerful shot, and Lynn would have died if it had hit near her lung or heart. None of them were experienced healers and it was doubtful she would have survived long enough for them to find one skilled enough to help her.

“I’m going to break the arrow and pull it out, so this will hurt a bit”, she snapped the arrow as she was finishing her words, and before Lynn could think about it too long, she pulled it out. Lynn had nodded grimly at her words and prepared herself, but still wasn't able to suppress the scream that shook her when the arrow came out.

“Just a scratch soldier. Now hold still while I close the wound”. She placed her hands on both sides of the wound and began to chant.

She didn’t have any great skill as a healer, but she knew enough for this kind of wound. It'd been her mother’s idea, after the death of father. In her grief, she’d tried to steer her daughter as far away as possible from her father’s profession. Devona had spent four years in the Temple, learning as much as she was able too, but her abilities were limited. Her heart and calling were in a different place.

Lynn sighed as she felt a disorienting, yet warm feeling spread over her body. The prayer was meant to accelerate the bodies healing pattern. The wound immediately stopped bleeding and within moments she felt it close up.

“It’s going to feel uncomfortable for a while, don’t strain it any more than absolutely necessary, or else it will tear afresh. Otherwise you’ll be fine in a few days.” Lynn nodded vaguely, still reeling from the shock.

Devona left her to gather herself as she retrieved her weapons. She knew that someone in her position; who’d just experienced battle, pain, and the strange sensation of healing powers coursing through her body for the first time needed some time to orient themselves again.

She was examining the area, trying to get a clearer idea in which direction the Charr had gone when Galt called out to her.

“Captain, someone’s coming”, he called and pointed in the direction of the town.

A man approached at a run; he carried a hunting bow and moved with a fluid grace that Devona admired. Something about the way he surveyed the area without flinching at the carnage, forced her to examine him more carefully. As he got closer, she was surprised to see that his cloths were completely wet and fatigue was written all over him. He called a greeting as he approached.

Ristaron · Jan 25, 2006, 09:24 PM // 21:24

You have admirable talent as a writer. Especially how you work in the in-game skills without making it obvious. Please, write more.

Perhaps you could start an RP, I would very much enjoy participating with you in one.

-Rist

danikt · Jan 30, 2006, 02:14 AM // 02:14

I've actually been working on a piece that takes place some time later in the story line, but I realized after writing it out, that I would need to fill some holes to make it a more engaging tale. So here's one of those "fillers".

Enjoy! And please, leave some thoughts about what you liked or didn't like, just make it constructive.

Well, even if its only a "/read it" post, still encourages me to keep writing more.
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The Searing

--

The day had started out quiet and still, like the calm before a storm. Trina was gathering a few last herbs she would need for when father woke. She was glad that it was still early morning, for the day had started out unnaturally warm, and the promise of intolerable heat to come hung heavy in the air.

As she straightened, she rubbed her back to work out the tightness. She twirling a red iris flower in her hand, inhaling its fragrance. A smile played across her lips as the fragrance brought a fond memory to mind.

It’d been late spring and Lauron had agreed to help the miller deliver some supplies to the Barradin Estate in the Green Hills. They were supposed to be gone five days, but the fifth day came and went, with no sign of them. She hadn’t worried, knowing that Lauron was able to take care of himself.

He’d ridden in on the morning of the sixth day, grinning like a child who’d smuggled a handful of sugar candies before supper. He’d leaped off the wagon and swept her up off her feet, hardly containing his excitement. She’d laughed, caught up in his mood, asking him what had taken so long.

“Come and see,” he’d said eagerly. Leading her around to the back of the wagon.

She’d been stunned, unable to speak at the sight of the wagon. It’d been filled with a layer of earth and there were hundreds of the flowers planted in it. She’d gasped and covered her mouth, trying to fight back the tears that came unbidden to her eyes.

“Sorry I’m late dear, but we choice care over haste,” he’d whispered in her ear.

“You horrible man, look how you’ve damaged the poor things,” she’d exclaimed, but her attempt at mock anger was lost on him as he’d roared in laughter and swept her into his arms and kissed her.

She’d chased him off, protesting that he smelled worse then the horses. As he’d left to wash up; she’d seen her father standing in the doorway, a knowing smile on his face. She’d learned later that the two of them had conspired together to bring the flowers. She’d spent the rest of that day planting them into her garden, refusing any help, telling them both that their butcher’s hands had done enough damage all ready.

She sighed, as the memory played out in her mind. With a start she noticed that her hands had drifted down to her belly again, holding it protectively. She’d been doing that more and more lately. She would need to tell Lauron soon, she was sure now, it’d been almost a fortnight now.

She heard movement from the house and reality came marching up to the forefront of her mind, demanding her attention. Father had taken a turn for the worst the night before, and she’d exhausted her supply of healing herbs trying to ease his pain. He was waking now, and would need her.

Lauron had left in the early morning to train with the militia. After the grawl attack, Captain Devona had meet with the townsfolk. She’d confirmed the rumors, that after hundreds of years of peace, the Charr had returned, and the Kingdom marched to war. She’d said that they should expect no more help from Ascalon. Her mission was to recruit every willing individual for the war effort.

She’d stayed for ten days; leaving on the last morning with a dozen fresh recruits for Ascalon. Markus had gone with them, he was to young to join the army, but Devona had promised that she would leave him in the care of a good friend of hers, who ran an orphanage in Ascalon. During her stay she convinced the town officials of the need for a local militia and had campaigned for Lauron to train and led it.

As Trina made her way back to the house, her gaze drifted north. They’d awakened this morning to find the northern sky filled with storm clouds, but these weren’t any ordinary clouds. These had been streaked with a reddish hue, and were unsettling to behold. Since then, the sky had gotten worse.

The clouds had spread out in every direction, as far as the eye could see. A deep foreboding filled Trina as she looked west and east, and finally south. The sky was turning a blood red in every direction. Shaking off the frightening sensation that tried to rise up cling to her mind, she went back inside.

--

The thunder was what got her attention and probably saved their lives. It saved many lives that day, by simply causing people to look up and realize what was coming and giving them a few extra moments in which to find shelter.

Trina had left the door open to try to cool the house from the uncharacteristic heat and when she heard the boom of thunder, had come to close it, fearing rain. What she saw when she glanced outside chilled her heart.

The sky was a churning blood red and as she watched, she spotted lightening in the clouds. With every flash, she glimpsed fires burning and dancing in the clouds. As she stepped out and looked north, time seemed to stop. It was as if the hand of death had reached out and seized her by the throat, stealing her breath and freezing her in place. She stood and stared in terror, as the sky burned before her eyes.

To her, it seemed like she stood and watched for hours, as far in the north the world burned under the torrent of fire. Finally she managed to break her gaze away from the horror. She rushed back inside, trying to regain control of her voice, fighting the panic that was overwhelming her senses.

“Father! Wake up, father!” She shook him awake, praying that the potion she’d mixed him hadn’t had time to take its full effect yet. Somehow the urgency or maybe the panic in her voice got his attention, and even though the fever burning through his body had taxed him almost beyond strength, he awoke with a start.

“What is it child,” he rasped in a dry voice.

“Father, please, you must listen to me. Please don’t argue, just listen.” She pleaded with him as she helped him sit up and then started gathering up things that they would need.

“The sky is raining fire. Don’t ask me how or why, just listen, we have to go,” maybe it was his trust in her, or maybe it was the fever, but for some reason he didn’t argue. She helped him rise groggily to his feet, but before they’d taken a step, they were both hurled to the ground as the world exploded in chaos and fire.

The sound was like a great downpour, but much fiercer than any storm had a right to be. It was as if logs rained down on the house. Trina screamed as the windows exploded with the fury of the attack. Her father yelled her name, unable to see her in the suddenly darkened room. The fever that raged through his body had crippled his all ready failing sight.

Trina recovered swiftly, overcoming the fear that pounded through her body with every beat of her heart. She scrambled to her fathers side and using her body as a crutch, helping him walk. As they stumbled out of the room the roof behind them collapsed.

With a great crash, it imploded into the floor and flames burst out everywhere. Smoke filled her vision, choking her and leaving her gasping for breath. The implosion pushed both of them to their knees. Trina strained under the weight of her father as she tried to find enough air to breath. It seemed that her chest was on fire, and with every ragged breath it burned more and more.

She didn’t know how she managed it, or where she found the strength, but clawing and pulling, she managed to make it across the house to the cellar door. By this time the walls were awash in flames, and the roof was threatening to come down upon them.

Her body was covered in burns and her knees scrapped raw with the effort of dragging and pulling her father. She fumbled with the latch on the cellar door; her hands smeared with blood, she didn’t remember how it’d gotten there. With a violent jerk she managed to free it and haul up the trap door. As she pulled her father up and took the first step down the earthen stairs into the darkness, her glance drifted to a nearby window. What she saw wrenched her heart and brought a gasping sob from her.

Through the window she saw her garden, and like everything else in sight, it burned. She watched as more flames fell from the sky, slowly but meticulously, devouring everything that hadn’t yet been consumed by the flames. Just like the fever that burned through the man in her hands, the fire burned through the garden that his hands had built.

She still remembered the day, three years ago, when he’d turned over his life’s work to her care. He’d spent the better part of his life cultivating the soil and gathering the different herbs for the garden. Now he was dying, slipping away in her arms and the greatest gift he’d ever given her, burned before her eyes.

The booming crack of a beam in the roof pulled her back to the task at hand, she took another staggered step down the stairs and stumbled.

As she fell into the darkness, flames filled her eyes, glistening and dancing in the tears that streamed down her face.

Ristaron · Jan 30, 2006, 04:38 AM // 04:38

Holy shit.
That was... moving.

Your skills in imagery are fantastic, I can't wait to see more!

Goats17 · Feb 04, 2006, 10:33 PM // 22:33

I actually started to cry.

You are amazing, and you NEED to write more.

danikt · Feb 05, 2006, 01:24 AM // 01:24

The Aftermath
--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The fiery meteor storm had lasted for only moments, but in the attack’s wake, only death and devastation remained. Every building, every home, every person was affected. The few survivors gathered in the town square, scavenging together what shelter they could find and trying to find what comfort they could, for themselves and for the injured. Trina had salvaged what she could from her herbal supplies, but little was left. Only the things that had been kept in the cellar remained and it wasn’t enough.

She’d escaped with only burns and cuts, but her father had taken a severe wound when the meteor had struck his room. She cared for him now, praying that Lauron would return swiftly with a healer from the Abbey.

Lauron had been training with the militia, when he’d spotted the fiery maelstrom approaching. He was the only one who hadn’t attempted to find cover, but had come as swiftly as he could to find her. He’d run through the whole storm, trying to reach the house, yet he had lived, and all the other members of the militia had died.

There was another entrance into the cellar, from the outside, and he’d come in that way. He’d helped her get father out and stop his bleeding. After his breathing had stabilized and he’d drifted off to sleep, she’d allowed herself a moment of weakness. Letting Lauron hold her, as she’d wept. Letting the tears wash away the terror and horror of the desolation around them. They’d held each other like some great evil was attempting to pull them apart and only if they held on with all their strength, could they prevail against the darkness that would bloat out their lives.

The smoke and ruin had filled the sky, darkening the light of the sun and bringing night early to the land. When they’d arrived at the town, they found the local healer dead along with many others. The destruction there had been complete, less than two score remained out of the hundreds that used to call this place their own.

A quick search revealed that the closest healer would be found at the Abbey. The Abbey and its inhabitants had long been on benevolent terms with the town. With the villagers helping in the provision of the healers and monks who called it home and in return the Abbey provided the town with a healer at all times of the year. It was decided that someone needed to be sent to bring help for all the wounded that needed healing. As soon as Lauron got word of this, he volunteered for the job.

She’d been worried at first, knowing that he’d not escaped unscathed from the storm, but mostly she’d been loath to let him out of her sight in the aftermath of what had just happened. He’d taken the time to calm her and explained to her what she’d all ready known. That even injured, he was faster then anyone else currently able to make the trip to the Abbey.

He’d left immediately, while there was still some daylight by which to see. He promise to take every care and would return early the next morning.

“If I have to, I’ll carry the monk on my back”, he’d said as they’d said their goodbyes. She’d forced herself to smile at that, for his sake, to show him that she’d be all right. She watched as he left on foot, refusing to let her mind dwell on any of the nightmares that seemed to lurk at the edge of her mind. Within moments, he’d disappeared from her sight; lost in the lingering flames and swirling smoke.

--

A scream woke her, not the moan or cry of one of the injured, but a piercing cry of pain and death. Before she could shake off the fringes of sleep that still clung to her mind, chaos erupted all around her. At first it was shouts of alarm, but they quickly turned to cries of fear and rage. Father stirred as she darted out of the make shift tent. His breathing had become weaker and weaker during the night, and she feared he wouldn’t last much longer without divine intervention.

She heard the sounds of battle before she saw it. Dawn was more than an hour away, and it took her a moment to make out the small creatures that had rushed in with weapons and torches. The torches they used on the make shift tents, set up by the townsfolk, and the weapons they used on anyone who came across their path. Something stirred in her, something violent and dangerous.

As she’d watched her father through the night, watched him struggling for his life. A slow despair had crept over her, filling her with dark thoughts. As she’d sat there, watching helplessly, a rage had filled her, a ragged, hot hatred. Rage at whatever had caused all this pain and death; at the gods who’d forsaken them, but most of all, at herself. At her utter uselessness, at her weakness, at her fear. Exhaustion had finally taken her, and she’d slept; with her tears of frustration still wet on her face.

Her exhaustion evaporated before the thing that awoke in her, it rose up within her; hungry and demanding. All thoughts scattered within her mind, replaced only with a need for action. A need that had been born of the helplessness and frustration she’d felt the night before. Swiftly she collected the bow that Lauron had made for her. He’d also taught her how to use it.

As she rushed out of the tent, a strange pulsating calm settled over her. There was no hesitation, only a single-minded determination as she released her first arrow into the nearest grawl. Before any of his comrades had time to react, she’d notched and fired another arrow at a second grawl. She paid no heed to the grawl’s scream as it fell to the ground, writhing in pain, her attention moving to the next target. She was preparing her next arrow when a grawl came hurling out of the predawn mist on her right side. At this range, her shot killed the grawl instantly, but she couldn’t avoid the glancing blow from its hammer as its momentum carried it into her.

The blow struck her in the left shoulder and deflected into the side of her face. It spun her around and she fell, dazed. Her ears pounding, she struggled to find her bow, which had been knocked out of her hands. She was reaching for it when the kick caught her in the ribs. She would have screamed, but found no breath with which to do it. As she tried to roll away from her attacker, a foot slammed into her belly, pinning her down. Reality crashed into her, all her strength abandoned her, this time she did scream.

As the wave of pain finally released her, she managed to open her eyes. As she blinked away the tears, she came face to face with something out of her worst nightmares. The hideous beast held a bow, notched with a black arrow. Her last thought before darkness engulfed her was for her unborn child.

Goats17 · Feb 06, 2006, 01:33 PM // 13:33

i'm sorry dude, but i need to bump this

Goats17 · Feb 06, 2006, 01:33 PM // 13:33

bump, sorry, but its getting lower on the forum

Symeon · Feb 10, 2006, 04:11 PM // 16:11

Bumping this back up to the top - great writing by the way, sorry I didn't get a chance to say it earlier