07.
Author: Ali Saracen
last update Last Updated: 2024-10-29 19:42:56

Miya lays still, watching as Faris prays peacefully with beauty and devotion. Lifting his hands in supplication, he whispers the hopes of his heart with emotion. Finishing he notices the pair of eyes looking at him.

"Did you manage to get any sleep?"

Faris asks.

Miya shakes her head.

"What language was that?"

"Arabiya, the language of my homeland."

"Oh. Originally, are you from somewhere far?

"I was born in Filosteen, more than a full moon's ride from here." Faris says while looking at the ground.

"You say that in sadness. Do you not like it here?"

Miya reluctantly asks.

"It's not that. I miss my wife. I've not seen her in too long."

He says placing his fingertips on his head as he sits.

"You have a good heart. Would you....."

"Where's Axil?"

Faris asks, shocked to not see him sleeping.

"I'm not sure."

Faris picks up his sword and runs a little forward

"Axil!"

He calls, loud and long.

"Wait here!"

Faris stands atop a tree stump and calls again and again and again, facing a different direction each time.

...

The glittering forest stays quiet and still. Faris starts to inhale deeply trying to remain calm, trying to imagine a scenario where Axil would be up, awake and off so early but he can not convince himself things are fine.

-

In pursuit of the witch, Rohain moves west through hard ground and light snow.

"She is barely half a day in front of me, can't have got too far."

He says to himself as he checks for tracks on the road.

Fortunately the cold had a strong hold on prints provided the wind does not carry fresh snow. Being on horseback has many advantages such as the ability to haul more weight and cover ground faster at the cost of reduced tracking proficiency. Unfortunately, the path is a well used trader route as old as time is covered by many traders day by day. At a crossroad Rohain decides to dismount his beautiful black horse, easily distinguished by its platted white mane and white war paint liken to it's skeletal structure. Crouching down he waves his hand over the ground as if casting a spell, shaking his head as if to confess his skills can not be utilised so well under such challenging conditions.

"So, what do you think Phantom? I'm guessing the far smoke is a good sign to follow but it's just guess work."

The horse just looks at him completely blank.

"Yeah, me too."

The horse shrugs it's head left in the direction of the smoke path.

"Alright then, let's get going."

Rohain says, offering Phantom an apple from a tree.

Climbing back on the saddle he prompts his road partner to gallop pronto. Through the naked trees and mudded road, phantom carries his armoured rider.

"Whoa there!"

Bodies are littered all around. Jumping down reaching for his crossbow, low and quickly manoeuvring behind a dominant rock whistling for his horse to fall back. Rohain raises his charged bolt from cover, surveying for threats hiding off path. The corpses appear to be encompassing a caravan flipped on it's side. Moving in for a closer look taking position behind the carts near side, the fire burns on it's last legs under the light rain. The dead appear to be of two kinds: criminals and security. Lots of steel from both sides is the how but the placement raises the why.

~Bodies appear to be facing each other randomly, as if each man was for himself. Bandits turned on bandits, nothing special about that, but security detail, ...very rare.~

"This was not just some ambush turned bloody, something made them all turn on each other."

The knight suspects cargo, there's something about treasure that brings out the worst in people. This theory would usually hold water but not when the payload appears to be untouched. The zone appears clear enough for the knights crossbow to be slinged. He lowers his weapon, kneels at the load fallen on the floor and spots a deposit box still locked...

"No? Is it possible?"

~There is only one way this makes sense;

The merchant must have come into something more valuable than usual forcing him to hire more security than usual. A convoy like this would be a six man job at the most but I see at least double that.

The bandit waited behind these trees, bushes and rocks setting up a ramp contraption to tilt any caravan carrying what looks like a profitable load. Standard routine.

The carriage was flipped but the robbers had not encountered such a strong defence team before, judging by the gear they are wearing at least.

They would have argued first, trying to negotiate but they went at each other inevitably, but something stopped the fighting before it managed to get bloody.

The witch wanted something from the convoy and had managed to track it somehow. The only set of female prints here were made strolling judging how clean they sit.

She probably cast some kind of spell, driving everyone into madness. These are not simply kills, these are untamed, wild savagery, not a single clean kill, except the merchant centre stage amongst the bodies.

Nothing appears to be missing though...except the merchants head and three fingers as far as I can tell.~

Clearly being on the right path Rohain whistles for his horse to return. Mounting and charging on due course before the rain washes away all traces he fails to notice the head of our talkative traveller, formerly a guest of The Bragging Dragon, laid far in tall grass.

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    Authors note:I apologize for the condition of this chapter, I reposted my previous chapter by mistake and I could not delete it so here is a draft of this chapter that I am still working on. I hate posting work in this state but I would rather you read this than pay to re read the last chapter. Sorry.#########By all accounts, the blood thirst is painful• It hums until it roars, driving the afflicted into a blood-lust madness• Even while satiated, the smell of blood or even the very sound of a beating heart can unleash the feral rage without warning• Soldiers would often leave defensive positions and break formations to sink their teeth into the red fog of war• It took no time to concede the futility of mortal tactics while no longer gravitated by injury and death• The soldier's swing carried impossible force, they moved like gusts of wind and every wound healed as fast as it was inflicted• You would think the blood army were angels by their astonishing beauty if not for the horrors

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    The night is cast over the stone crown, and the burning glow of Faris's blood-fueled eyes is concealed beneath dark lenses. Unwanting to be seen, Faris moves through the shadows of the oil lamps, his steps sinking into the damp dust, pine, rotting food, berries, and perfume that have soaked the fogged air like dye. Everywhere he goes, he's met with the stench of footsteps, sharp breath, mumbles of madness, and the people around him appear more like carcasses ready for consumption, drawing out demons like thorns draw blood. Faris's thoughts are filled with the faces of his daughter, his best friend, his wife and above all, Veryth and her unborn child dulling the sharp edge of thirst that stabs from every direction. As he gets closer to his target, the Nakhflay camp, the smooth flow of his steps slows, and he is filled with dread. He has experienced opening doors into rooms he wished not to be, and crossing lines he wished he never had but the camp just seems like it's too much to face.

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    Veryth is awoken from a dream of happyness by the song of rain echoing through harsh frost. Dreaming of her husbands warm arms, only to find Schenade has crawled into her bed again. Finally asleep after another late night, this is the only time Veryth does not need to hide her tears. - The darkness of home would be navigated with cautious strides to the lamps usually but even the darkest of corners appeared shaded in light. Water hissed in his ears and every droplet seemed to have its place as it ran red through his hold sharp fingers. Catching the icy water in his palm he gargles and throws the cold against his face, closing his eyes to flashbacks of failure, fear and blood. Taking his Miswaak(toothbrush) and openining his mouth he stands opposite his reflection - his reflection stares back judging and scolding. Burning eyes of bright amber stood a stark contrast to his ashen skin and black dishevelled hair, sharpened teeth as long as his nails; a far cry from the face his wife knew

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    By the roaring fire, Daniella and Rohain laugh over roasted rabbit and black coffee. "I've never seen a helmet have the faceplate lock forward before. It is rather clever." "Eating alone is not always an option. You learn to adapt." "You know, people will not judge you for breaking an oath you made voluntarily." "People always judge others, especially by their appearance." "Are you concerned people will judge you if you are ugly?" "No." Rohain leans in. "As you get older, you will notice how people become more interested in how you look than who you are." "People are so callous in reflection of my guise?" Daniella sighs. "It's human nature to judge by the apparent. People are judged so radically for their appearance despite it being the one thing about ourselves we control the least. Being pretty can be a curse just as much as disfigurement." "Why is the human race... ...so dogmatic?" Daniella questions, trying to hide a world of pain. "Most people are shallow, vile mons

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    "Think I should get a piercing or a tattoo?" Daniella asks. Rohain turns to face her, even through his helmet an expression of confusion and exclamation show through. "Too much?" "Why would you do such a thing?" Rohain asks as he dismounts Phantom. "I don't know, just to feel different I suppose. Something to represent all of this. A memento if you will." Rohain helps Daniella down. "Your hand is not enough?" Daniella looks at her bandage, turning her hand. "I want something that I have chosen, on my terms." "You do not need a reminder to represent hardship or triumph. The things that matter most, we carry in here." Rohain says while tapping his heart. "Are you sure you want to set up camp here? We are close." "They are forbidden from opening the city gates after nightfall." Phantom watches as Daniella pulls the wood bunch and lays it down before making a circle of rocks to set the fire. Rohain lays out the under-sheet and pegs it down. "Hand me those will you?" Daniel

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    Coughs of hopelessness echo through the frosted darkness, hanging chains, aged bars and the stench of rot sinking through the opening of a large metal box. Candles glow the sound of a quill scraping final thoughts into unrolled paper... Dear Veryth,As I write to you now, I fear you will never hear my last words. All I have ever known from you is love and care, trust and paitence. Everyday with you has been a blessing I have never diserved but have always needed. Closing my eyes your smile is all that keeps me sane in this madness. I know not if I will ever see you again or if you could ever forgive me for dying without saying goodbye as much as it hurts. I'm not much of a writer, never have been so do not look upon my simple words without understanding the love and sorrow between the lines.I don't know how long they have kept me here, I just know it's cold, dark and silent at all times. After all these years, we are finally expecting a baby but fate can be cruel. What once was my gr

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    32. Journal

    The 1st Blood scroll My name is Hafidh● Anointed the personal scribe of Lord Vladimir● A better honour than a prisoner, a better title than a slave, tasked with documenting history as I witness it for purpose of glory and warning● My upbringing was nothing extraordinary; a father addicted to working long hours, a mother of poor health and a brother to call "friend"● My education was torn short by corruption for when my brother opposed, he was banished from the academy and I chose to follow my loyalties● The wheel of time turned my early years into a simple working man like a father with less ambition than prospects while my brother found his own path● I lived most of my life with a gaze as low as the sunken sun until eventually I saw the elite, stars, and realised the world had far more to offer than I ever claimed● It was not easy to realise the shade I had become but harsh words from wise men awoke me from the slumber of a relinquished state of mind● Dreaming of being a renowned w

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    31. Journal

    The 3rd Blood Scroll Bells rang through the city as the ashes of war began to settle like snow● The siege finally ended after enough blood flowed to fill the former king's skull with fear and remorse● Citizens were still collecting arrows, extinguishing fires and burying the dead as the conqueror came to claim his new crown● Parading through the city streets, his towering shadow cast dismay and awe by all sanctified to behold● Stench of charred flesh, grit of the poisoned throats, whimpers of hunger and rattling of prison bonds - Vladimir knew his subjects were in no condition to commemorate their liberation● No doubt the former king was discriminatory, a tyrant whose only claim to the throne was being the sole heir to a king who cared more about the topics of his goblet than the plate's of his people● Taxes kept the kingdom sunken in deficiency while the defeated king had indulged in exotic fruits and low association● Those educated in the ways of magic were clawed from society as w