The High King: A Tale of Alus

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The High King: A Tale of Alus Page 55

by Wigboldy, Donald


  The smells of blood and death lay upon the plain. The orange light of a new day's sun added its color to the already crimson stained earth. The cries of crows broke the still air with their raucous calls of delight and the occasional squabble over a choice piece of meat. The fights ended quickly though. There was more than enough for even their great numbers, but the large ebony marauders had their work cut out for them even still. Armor that had sought to protect the men of Certe in life resisted the strength of their beaks even though it had failed its responsibility so completely.

  A sudden movement from the center of the dead startled the scavengers from their fare. The air turned dark as the flock lifted angrily from their meals. A groan from the final surviving defender was drowned out by the squawks of the brazen birds. The warrior fought his way weakly to his knees. A hand brushed absently at the blood blinding his vision. Looking back to the ground in front of him, the man found his broken sword.

  The largest of the ravens swooped downwards to land before the man. It looked at him curiously. The man thought that he could see unbelief in the creature's eyes which mirrored that which he felt. It squawked at him as if to ask him how it was that he still lived.

  A croak through his raw throat was his ineffectual retort. He coughed and the effort nearly threw him back onto his face in the gore. He spied an unopened canteen on a body nearby and reached out for it. Lifting the container to his mouth, the fallen warrior poured the liquid between his lips. He rinsed out his mouth and spit it back out. The water had turned red before it even touched the blood stained earth.

  Pouring the contents of the canteen back into his mouth, he forced his throat to swallow. Once started, he couldn't stop until the vessel was drained.

  The raven hadn't moved throughout the whole of his efforts.

  The man stared at the creature in amazement. The thought of the scavenger drew him to look about him. The death surrounding him caused an unbidden gasp. He could tell that the hundreds of bodies belonged to his comrades and allies. The army of King Druin lay about him in great unkempt piles.

  He forced himself to remember how the losses could possibly have happened. The sight of a dark misshapen body sent waves of memory flowing harshly back into his consciousness. Tears of bitterness and failure came unbidden as he remembered it all.

  Dante Betrice of the Certe Alliance Guard had come with his comrades when reports of the dark horde invading their lands had come to them. King Druin ruled in the south of the alliance and had sent the first battalion to meet the unknown intruders. General Batist had confidently led his men to the plain of Turo and there the army found the horror of creatures not born of their world.

  The creatures consisting of two main types wore black armor strangely discolored by a crimson gloss. The smaller creatures all had dark green skin, a green that resembled that of an evergreen in winter. Small and quick they darted in and out and around the humans with their long knives. If a man wasn't careful, the beasts would take swipes at his legs going for the tendons in particular. He had seen many fall to the tactic and the creatures were quick to pounce in small groups to finish their victim as well. If they didn't get the kill, their larger cousins would use their axes and clubs instead. With rough skin the color of oak bark, the creatures nearly the height of a full grown man and chests wider than a man's shoulder width, the larger beasts had formed a core through which their smaller cousins operated.

  With power and speed, the dark warriors had quickly dismantled the entire command.

  Dante had fought valiantly. Even as the men around him fell, he had continued to hold his ground. Dark creatures could be found slain in the midst of the Certe Guardsmen, many were the result of his work. Then the numbers had closed in on him. Their mass proved too strong for his blade and the shield he had carried was left in tatters.

  This brought him back the question of his continued existence. "How can I be here?" he questioned the raven still before him.

  Cocking its shiny black head at him curiously, the bird answered with a softer call. Dante looked at the creature before him in wonderment that it was still before him. Shaking his head slightly until he realized that the motion caused him dizziness, Dante then chose to try and stand. The raven retreated only slightly as it continued to watch.

  Dante chose to ignore the bird and turned to the task of finding a suitable sword and shield to replace those that he had lost. He also found a pair of animal skin canteens and a couple of travel packs of food. He began eating ravenously. He had been famished. The hunger greater than he could ever remember.

  He tossed a few scraps towards the raven though there was more than enough left here to feed it. Its comrades had already started withdrawing now that even their great appetites had been sated. His own hunger was as well now.

  The task before him had to be a return to Castle Trea and to find out if any of the others had made it back to warn the king. Having eaten, he found his strength returning quickly. Dante began picking his way through the masses of dead. It was a disheartening experience. He found many a friend lying broken and often picked over by the scavengers. The body of General Batist was found near the rear of the battle surrounded by his personal guard.

  Dante shook his head. The man had refused to flee though his command was being torn apart before him. Dante considered such an act foolish. The General should have retreated to the castle to warn the king. There was nothing to be gained by losing such an important man. His pride had caused the superb soldier to die which was a shame since Batist was a renowned strategist and tactician. In the face of such a loss, Dante guessed that he had been unwilling to admit defeat.

  Picking up his pace as he finally was clear of the main killing field, Dante rushed as quickly as he could manage. The castle was nearly twenty miles south. If he could get there soon enough, he could prepare the king for what his troops would be facing.

  Walking all day, Dante spotted smoke ahead of him. A dark flash and the soft rustle of wings, alerted him to the raven's presence again. It had followed him this far. Perhaps it was still certain of Dante's death and had chosen him as its future meal, he thought wryly. But as the bird soared on ahead towards the smoke, Dante realized that the bird would have something else to feed on first.

  The bird had disappeared long ago, but Dante knew that the creature would be waiting ahead for him though he had no reason for such odd behavior. The warrior followed the road as best he could and before long he found the source of the smoke.

  A small village, through which the army had passed only a day ago, was now a smoking ruin. As he entered the outskirts of the town, Dante could smell the death before him even as he had on the battlefield. Animals and scavenger birds were here as well. Most scattered at the approach of the man. The brazen raven appeared before him in the road and turned to him with a cry.

  "So nice of you to wait," he mumbled sarcastically.

  As he searched the village for any survivors, Dante began to wonder about something else. The invaders’ identity was entirely unknown to him. They had appeared out of virtually nowhere. Those that had alerted the king had not known from where they had come either. More than five hundred strong, a true army of odd creatures the likes of which had never been known to this region of the Taltan continent, if they had ever existed anywhere in all of the world of Alus, and they had just appeared out of nowhere to attack and destroy.

  Armies of man they knew. There were even dwarves rumored to be a true race up in the north, though he had never seen one. The myths of a race of gargoyles and the existence of dragons had made their way to Certe. The source of old wives' tales to be told to naughty young children or around the campfire to try and spook the rawest of recruits, but now these aberrations were here. No wives’ tale this.

  Dante could find no one left alive and so he proceeded south to warn the king, even as he continued to ask the unanswerable questions.

  The raven followed revealing nothing to him.

  Coming in May 201
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