"Run!" He yelled. The old man, I can't ever remember his name.
"Damn! They're -," Another cries as he's cut down.
"Child, hide." A kindly voice breaks through the screaming and snarling. She's framed by a building set aflame. "Hide for me." A shadow passes behind her raising its arm. Long, lithe, and powerful, the arm begins to swing down towards her. "Live, my love, save-," her final words cut as her head is separated from her. The glow of green monstrous eyes looks at me.
I start awake, and slowly I begin to recognize the ceiling of the billet my unit and I have been stationed in. The barracks is in the town of Pharron, in the northern region of Kale. My best friend, Amila is standing over me her hand is on my shoulder. I realize also, that my dagger is placed precariously at her neck.
Her voice, low and gravely from the years of soldiery shoves through my stupor, "And what were you going to do with that, Arn?" The tone meant death for anyone else.
"Figured I'd shave you, Amila. Might find a beard under that well-trimmed nap." Arn rose to smile as the dagger disappeared into his armor once more. It wasn't the first time it had happened to someone and it wouldn't be the last. Few could wake me while having THAT dream, safely. Most just tossed a bucket of water on me. Gruffly, she sniggered and taped my leg with her knife.
"Two for the price of one?" It was placed exactly where it could have a lasting effect. Her knife disappeared just as quickly. Amila was a dwarf of powerful build and taller stature than her kin. She almost passed as a very well-built human. At 57 winters, she was just reaching adulthood for her kind, though she had no clan that would care. Her hair the color of jet and her eyes a storm blue made her attractive to most men who mistook her for a "train jockey". It was what we, in the army, called camp followers. She was unique though in one way. She could cast spells, unlike her brethren. I believed that she was cast out for this mostly. An "aberration" she was called by her kin. She laughed it off as them being jealous. Her fine features and strong tastes meant that when enough drink had gone around she and I had coupled, though she'd never admit any feelings without it. To me though, she was my world. My friend, my love, and my hope for a better life. I'd never say anything either.
"Our turn?" I asked as I stretched out the worst of the night's tremors.
"Yep," she smacked my side as I stretched. "Those are long enough, get 'em bigger." She smiled a ruddy hue as she walked to the door.
The blast was deafening as I was thrown through the wall behind me. My bunk, usually closest to the door, cartwheeled over me. I knew darkness.
Water...
It's hitting my face...
Who leaves their window open during a rainstorm?
I shift to turn over and pain unlike any I've felt shoots through my legs and back. I can't feel my left arm. I open my eyes and blearily look around at the carnage set before me. Bodies. Just bodies. Burnt homes and structures. The war had come to this region with a vengeance. I look for our barracks, now a burnt-out husk.
I look down and see why I can't feel my arm. It's pinned beneath me. Blood flow tends to help feeling for some reason. I move it out from underneath me and search around for why my legs hurt. I find my bunk has left my head and torso alone but has decided to take a turn at sleeping on me. Specifically my legs. They hurt but I can move my toes and feet. I lay back and take stock. I move my hands, one finger at a time. Nothing broken. My tanned skin meets my eyes as I watch them move. I move my arms. A slight pinch in my left but it's still waking up. I see no outer injuries there. Dislocation or broken. The pain will tell me in a moment. I move my torso back and forth. No broken ribs though definitely bruised. Back feels good though. I move my neck, feeling nothing out of place. I sit up and look at the bunk, quietly chiding it in my head. 'Silly bed,' I say. 'That's Amila's spot.' The memory hits me like a dragon's tail. Amila!
I shove the bunk off my legs. They're not broken so I stand and shakily move toward the barracks we shared. I can't hear except for god's awful ringing in my ears. I move over a deep puddle and slip seeing my reflection for the first time in months. At 22 winters, I'm a man of decent looks. According to Amila, autumn sunset-colored hair, pine-green eyes, and a slightly upturned nose. High cheekbones and slightly pointed ears. Everyone I'd met said I was half-elf. Not that that meant much to me. I'd never met an elf before and my mother was dead. So I didn't care. One day I'll shave the scraggly thing growing on my chin. But, I doubted it. Amila loved the damn thing. I also noticed the fact that I couldn't see out one eye and upon closer inspection realized that it was most likely ruptured. Well, that sucks. This all passed through my mind as I stepped back through the hole I had made during my forced egress. Explosions make doors everywhere. I apologize for the sarcasm, Amila said writing this shit down might help "cope" whatever the hell that means. I began the search for survivors in the wreckage. I didn't find anyone. No bodies. No remains of ash. Nothing. It was strange.
I began to search for her ring. The one I'd slipped to her last spring. She'd worn it every day since. I'd taken a few more steps when I heard the crunching. I froze in place. I recognized the sound of bones being crushed between teeth. I slipped gently into the shadows cast by the ruin around me. I moved towards the sound and cursed my luck after spotting it. A Wight. Just what I fucking need.
By themselves, Wights are hard enough to kill. It could take a small group of ten or more to bring down one. But, they rarely traveled alone. This one was large to boot. Probably a Lord of some type. It hadn't spotted me yet so I opted for stealth. I drew my silvered dagger knowing that it wouldn't kill the creature. Paralyze? Yes. Kill? No. Fire was the best way to do that. Then something grabbed my ankle. The grip was hard with desperation. I looked down and recognized immediately the ring on her hand. Amila! I knelt and squeezed her wrist four times. Our warning for danger and twice more for quiet. Her hand withdrew from me and I began to stalk the creature before me. The sounds were loud as I approached. Just when I got about six feet from it the wind shifted. It stopped crunching and I stopped moving.
"Half-man," It said. "I can smell you." The droning voice drew out the word as it turned, smiling. Its face was covered in gore and shards of bone. I lunged clearing the distance quickly. For my size and frame, I was among the fastest in my unit. It tried to swat me aside and I ducked. Its rusted armor was no match for the naked steel in my hands. The dagger pierced its heart and it froze. It looked down frozen by the attack and weapon. It simply toppled over as the paralysis kicked in.
I said nothing as I backed away from the creature hoping it wasn't playing tricks. I slowly climbed back into the barracks and began to remove the timbers and such covering her. Paying attention less to freeing her than the creature a few feet away. After the third timber was removed she stood. Rubbing her right arm while looking me up and down. Taking her own stock of my condition.
As she was about to speak I shook my head, pointing. The creature was watching us intently. Though it couldn't move or speak. They could mimic any voice they hear, even once. She found a brand from the barracks and motioned toward it. I looked around and motioned for her to wait. She cocked her head in confusion. I signed to her, with my back to the creature of course, "May be more. Rain won't help either."
She nodded and walked to me, once she got to me she signed, "Camp is gone?"
I nodded, "Was checking on you first. Not sure of any more survivors." I motioned back to the Wight to make my point. "Get your gear."
The rain had begun to wash away the ash and soot covering her. Half of her face was burned but not badly. Because she kept the majority of her hair in a tight braid and bun. Her hair was slightly frayed but not too badly. Most never knew how long it was. As she smiled wickedly at me I knew what she was about to do. As a war mage, fire was one of her preferred methods of destruction. She waved at it to draw its attention and blew it a kiss. The kiss let a singular bead of red energy flow from her. I'd seen it a dozen times before. I shook my head because that was her way of saying, "Fuck you." To any creature she deemed annoying. It never saw the bead as it struck the chest of the creature just next to the dagger. The immolation took less than thirty seconds. The fire's noise deadened by the silence spell she wove before the fireball. No noise. No creature. Just the smell of a burned corpse.
I retrieved my dagger and replaced it within my sheathes. She touched my arm. Her wounds were almost as severe as my own. We needed medical attention and I could almost guarantee the field hospital was hit hardest. No medics, no help for the dying. She stopped and looked at the creature.
"Thank you," Amila said, touching my arm. She was very much in her vulnerable state. Normally that would lead to a little action but I didn't push it. Not in this place. Not at this time. She walked into the worst of the camp. As I suspected, the hospital had been hit hard. Nothing left but charred canvas and smoldering bodies. "Arn," she motioned me forward and signed for stealth. I dropped into a crouch and began to move forward. She joined me in the scouting. Taking one side. I looked about and saw them. Four ghouls, lesser wights, they were easier to take out, but not by much. Four meant trouble unless you were perfect for the job. Wish I knew where Brag was. That mountain could take all these guys without a flinch of his eyes. As it were, Amila and I had them before any others were alerted. Two each they went down much the same way as the wight. Fire and silver doing the trick nicely. Again, retrieving my daggers I placed my hand over hers as the last was cleaned up.
"Let's check for Brag, at least." I stood and moved toward the hospital. I rummaged finding a few much-needed supplies. The weather changed again. I watched as the light brightened overhead. One stray beam crossed her as I watched. Gorgeous. I wanted that day now more than ever. After acquiring the medical supplies we moved to the command barracks. The damage was superficial at best. We heard metal striking metal. My heart jumped. SURVIVORS!
I strung along the side of the nearly octagonal building. From the window above I heard grunts and small shouts. Metal banging against metal. It's ringing telling me that it was a close call inside. Two bodies on the right side could make all the difference.
"Damn it, Brag!" A nasally voice called out. "I can't banish them if you don't subdue them!" A snicker rose from my throat.
"Then you try holding seven at arm's length, Nicodemus!" The large bassoon of his voice shook the wall near my ear. The easiest guy in all the realms to pick out. Even in the dark. About as stealthy as a bull Tark during the rut. Brag was a literal mountain of a man. The big guy was hurting though. His tone seemed off. That voice was cue enough for me to move. Amila was right on my heels as I jumped into the fray. I jumped through, my sword and dagger coming out before my feet even hit the floor. The dagger disappeared into the armpit of the creature in front of me. It whimpered and fell over clutching at it. My sword allowed another a bird's eye view of the fight as its head leaped from its shoulders.
"Arn!" Brag threw a ghoul into the wall spearing it on a shattered timber. "'Bout damn time you showed up!" There were eight in the room between myself and my friends. Well, five once the flaying, stabbing, and stuff was done before Amila and Nico took turns. The one wearing my dagger was paralyzed now and wouldn't pose a threat. The other one its body was searching for its head. Which was unceremoniously getting kicked around in the tussle. Amila froze two in their tracks as they jumped at her. Nico changed one into a plant. That was funny. Brag had just grabbed one in front of him when I danced around him into the open arms of the one trying to rake his calf.
"No," I said reproaching the creature, "Bad boy," I responded in my way by removing the arms. I drove my dagger into its heart to make my point. The confusion on its face was truly priceless. Paralysis and fatigue set in for the creature a half second later. The wet slap of a piece of meat met my ears. I looked up at the nearly eight-foot-tall behemoth beside me. He was splitting the poor creature down to the navel, brute strength winning over any undead regeneration.
"Gods, Brag, just torch it," I said when he was done. Squeamish despite it being a creature that would have eaten either of us alive had it so chosen.
"But," He looked at me pouting, "that ain't no fun." He reached out for me wiping his hands on my armor. I glared death into his eyes. "What? Oh." He chuckled and started wiping it on his armor. The majority left behind on mine.
"Arse," I smiled as I came up to Nico. "Amila," I turned to her. She looked to me like a goddess walking in an ice world. "Crispy or charred?"
"Nico could eat them," she smirked, "Might help with his experiments." She was referring to his attempt at wooing her many summers ago.
Gagging, Nico replied, "Doubt it." Middling height and had nothing on him but bone. He epitomized the word "Scrawny." However, that did not detract from his formidable sorceries. The story was he was trained far east of the Great Bite. A crater in the world is said to have been a god's tomb. I could believe it, sort of. His stub nose and slightly larger eyes made him look almost goblinoid.
"Can I try?" Brag said. His curiosity was clear.
"No, Brag, you'd turn as ugly as these things," I said, "You don't want that do you?"
The big man scrunched his tawny face and shook his head, smiling. "Nope," his vanity showing then, "I'm too pretty." His smile widened showing the crooked teeth of a brawler. His large frame was powerfully built. Unfortunately, those who thought him stupid were far from the truth. His strategies had brought our outfit victories in ways even the higher-ups couldn't comprehend. He was also the highest-ranking person in the room. Not that that made much difference to us. He was Brag, that's it. He motioned to Nico and Amila, "Make it quick." The smell of burning corpses followed shortly after.