Mordia, Arvin Province
Ragged, starving and looking to quench his thirst, the young boy stumbled across the alley way.. three days had passed since the invasion of the Luryta.. columns of smoke dotted the city.. the crows above the city could see a pattern amongst the sea of red below.. dead bodies laid strewn across the once proud Mordia.. a picturesque summer retreat for the royal family.. now reduced to burning ruins and the stench of rotting corpses.. the crows were certainly the victors in the spoils.. the invaders had left last night.. yet the lad was not taking any chance.. chaffed and blood soaked.. the gash in his forehead was the least of his problems.. slowly dragging himself.. his chaffed and raw soles scraped the cobblestones as he made his way towards Gryndors.. rivulets of Mordian blood still streamed down.. now assailed by the stench of his dead elders, he saw his friend's body lying motionless at the West Gate.. Now was not the time to grieve, he told himself... Friends come and go.. Mavin had said.. You however... must survive young one.. he had said..
He now shook himself free of his thoughts.. as he stared at the barracks to the west of the city.. the pride of the Province and in turn Mordia rested on the red building that met the boy.. a place abuzz with new recruits lining up outside for training, veteran soldiers returning from a harsh campaign.. or the Grey Hair council members visiting from time to time.. Mordia's barracks was known to the empire as breeding some of the finest spearman for the Emperors of the Lynea Dynasty.. Now an eerie silence filled the air.. the boy slowly lifted his gaze to view a strange sight.. perched high above the barracks laid a spear.. impaled on it was a soldier.. a new recruit who'd joined a week back.. another son lost.. another brother joining the army of the dead.. his brother.. Prilo Atrius was just sixteen a week ago as he'd joined Mordian Regiment Hurta.. the most celebrated and revered.. some said to join them was to be the closest to becoming an immortal.. time immemorial had remembered the Hurtas of the days gone by.. long after their ashes had been cast to the Atrax ghosts.
As the young boy looked at his brother's motionless body, the Hurta maxim "The spear guides our path", the sight seemed a cruel joke played by the gods.. He felt no pain.. no loss.. no grief.. no sorrow.. for in that moment, the silhouette of the dead Prilo across the dark, grey sky served as evidence of the universal truth.. Flesh and bones had said Mavin.. that's all we are.. pawns for a higher cause young one.. that bastard was sure right.. but where had he run off to?
As he walked towards the ruins, he saw an arrow riddled corpse at the entrance.. Captain Ascarius of the Hurta.. a war hero to many in the city.. a life of celibacy had probably spared a woman her anguish and sorrow.. but there might probably a bastard born somewhere to carry out the Ascarius line..
All of a sudden, the boy slapped himself.. again.. and again.. and again.. strangely feeling as if someone was coercing him into this ritual.. to test whether it was real or just a phantasma.. "Alas" whispered a voice, in it all "Grey clouds again dear Atrius.. wake up now.. wake up.. lest you lose yourself in this again"..
The man awoke with a loud cry.. as he stared wildly.. the silken sheets, the quilt on his table.. the swan feathers at the helm of his bed and the sweet incense of morning sticks.. all felt out of place.. As he gazed at his heavily bandaged chest and turned towards the archway to search for the words that seemed so familiar in the days of old.. He sat in the silence.. oddly comforting yet an ideal companion.. Breathing heavily, Blydwen slowly lifted himself from his bed and gazed outside.. still dusk outside.. yet it was a grey sky that still evoked the grim feeling.. of an existence void of soul.. but for him, it was just another dream to add to his other visions of innumerable souls whose lives he had ended.. Blydwen of Atrius was not a mortal.. not when grey skies cast an eerie shadow on the land below.
Ragged, starving and looking to quench his thirst, the young boy stumbled across the alley way.. three days had passed since the invasion of the Luryta.. columns of smoke dotted the city.. the crows above the city could see a pattern amongst the sea of red below.. dead bodies laid strewn across the once proud Mordia.. a picturesque summer retreat for the royal family.. now reduced to burning ruins and the stench of rotting corpses.. the crows were certainly the victors in the spoils.. the invaders had left last night.. yet the lad was not taking any chance.. chaffed and blood soaked.. the gash in his forehead was the least of his problems.. slowly dragging himself.. his chaffed and raw soles scraped the cobblestones as he made his way towards Gryndors.. rivulets of Mordian blood still streamed down.. now assailed by the stench of his dead elders, he saw his friend's body lying motionless at the West Gate.. Now was not the time to grieve, he told himself... Friends come and go.. Mavin had said.. You however... must survive young one.. he had said..
He now shook himself free of his thoughts.. as he stared at the barracks to the west of the city.. the pride of the Province and in turn Mordia rested on the red building that met the boy.. a place abuzz with new recruits lining up outside for training, veteran soldiers returning from a harsh campaign.. or the Grey Hair council members visiting from time to time.. Mordia's barracks was known to the empire as breeding some of the finest spearman for the Emperors of the Lynea Dynasty.. Now an eerie silence filled the air.. the boy slowly lifted his gaze to view a strange sight.. perched high above the barracks laid a spear.. impaled on it was a soldier.. a new recruit who'd joined a week back.. another son lost.. another brother joining the army of the dead.. his brother.. Prilo Atrius was just sixteen a week ago as he'd joined Mordian Regiment Hurta.. the most celebrated and revered.. some said to join them was to be the closest to becoming an immortal.. time immemorial had remembered the Hurtas of the days gone by.. long after their ashes had been cast to the Atrax ghosts.
As the young boy looked at his brother's motionless body, the Hurta maxim "The spear guides our path", the sight seemed a cruel joke played by the gods.. He felt no pain.. no loss.. no grief.. no sorrow.. for in that moment, the silhouette of the dead Prilo across the dark, grey sky served as evidence of the universal truth.. Flesh and bones had said Mavin.. that's all we are.. pawns for a higher cause young one.. that bastard was sure right.. but where had he run off to?
As he walked towards the ruins, he saw an arrow riddled corpse at the entrance.. Captain Ascarius of the Hurta.. a war hero to many in the city.. a life of celibacy had probably spared a woman her anguish and sorrow.. but there might probably a bastard born somewhere to carry out the Ascarius line..
All of a sudden, the boy slapped himself.. again.. and again.. and again.. strangely feeling as if someone was coercing him into this ritual.. to test whether it was real or just a phantasma.. "Alas" whispered a voice, in it all "Grey clouds again dear Atrius.. wake up now.. wake up.. lest you lose yourself in this again"..
The man awoke with a loud cry.. as he stared wildly.. the silken sheets, the quilt on his table.. the swan feathers at the helm of his bed and the sweet incense of morning sticks.. all felt out of place.. As he gazed at his heavily bandaged chest and turned towards the archway to search for the words that seemed so familiar in the days of old.. He sat in the silence.. oddly comforting yet an ideal companion.. Breathing heavily, Blydwen slowly lifted himself from his bed and gazed outside.. still dusk outside.. yet it was a grey sky that still evoked the grim feeling.. of an existence void of soul.. but for him, it was just another dream to add to his other visions of innumerable souls whose lives he had ended.. Blydwen of Atrius was not a mortal.. not when grey skies cast an eerie shadow on the land below.
Where's my thesaurus??
ReplyDeleteLOL... Do checkout the prologue as well
ReplyDeletehttp://shithitsthefanstreet.blogspot.com/2014/04/prologue.html