by Umut Ersezer
Civilization that was so carefully nurtured over countless generations, lost. All but a fraction of lifelings that were able to survive in the smallest of pockets on the land, lost. Humans, the eshin and the dwarves were lost to time, recordings of knowledge and history swallowed by the very ground it was built upon.
It would take thousands of years for any sense of recovery, a process that was severely diminished without their gods. Their prayers left unanswered for their gods had left them, believing them ready for when Mirardos would inevitably find and invade their world. They would not be.
** Chapter 8 **
The Escape
Volare opened his eyes. He had wished it all to have been a terrible nightmare, that when he opened his eyes, his father would be there encouraging him out of bed. Instead, he was met with cold darkness.
The rocky tomb in which his fate was sealed in. His empty stomach and dry mouth spurred him to rummage through his rucksack for food and water. To his relief, there was just enough light penetrating through the cave mouth and down the cavern, he now occupied. No doubt clearing the opening of debris allowed this light to now weakly illuminate his surroundings.
He looked around the room as he ate some dried meat and veamber, noticing new details and structures in the cavern. There were more symbols carved high into the walls; still, he had no idea what any of them meant.
There was a structure built into one of the walls, resembling the alters from the church in Vicus. He couldn’t be sure though for it was damaged with entire sections of it being crumbled away.
Volare was never sure about the gods, he understood the adults believed in them, he realized they were seen as important, and they should be respected because it was they who gave us life. But no one ever explained the why or how of it, at least not to his satisfaction. He was just expected to accept these gods. If they’re out there, I could sure use your help right about now, thought Volare, sceptical that any such help would come. Korali give me the strength to find my way out, Volare prayed to the human creator.
Volare returned to the section where he fell from. He could now see more clearly the impossibility of what he was attempting last night. The wall he had tried to climb stretched twenty metres above, some sections were directly vertical with no handholds. The rock seemed unnaturally smooth these sections.
He turned his attention elsewhere, now focusing on the large wall inscribed with symbols. Maybe if I can make sense of these, it will help me escape, thought Volare. He looked down at his newly found artefact to discover that the symbol carved into its surface was glowing weakly light blue. Volare was stunned, glowing metal? he pondered.
He raised the artefact to the wall where to his shock, it came alive with the same glow of the artefact he held. All the symbols glowing light blue, flooding the cavern in what felt like blinding light after spending so much time in darkness. “What is this!?” exclaimed Volare. This has to mean something, there must be a way. He gripped the artefact tightly and held it up to the wall, I need to get out, he thought.
The wall suddenly began to vibrate, coming alive with the noise of grinding rock. Debris from above broke loose and fell around Volare. He ran to his rucksack, raising it above his head in an attempt to shield himself. The vibrations grew more violent until the wall itself began to split in the middle. It’s opening?! Volare thought as his heart began to race.
When the wall showed an opening just large enough, Volare pushed himself out. The sun blinding him momentarily, it felt so good to be out in the fresh air again. To hear the trees and the birds, to be free. He looked back to watch the rock face still moving apart, it was growing wider by the second. The vibrations and noise of grinding rock lessened and finally stopped as the moving rock face came to a standstill.
The sunshine now highlighting the broken alter on the back wall. By the gods, what is this place? Volare thought while looking back and forth between the alter and the artefact clutched in his hand.
The dust settled, and Volare calmed himself after trying to absorb what had just happened. The shock of it and the relief of escaping the cavern filled him with conflicting emotions.
He turned around to see that he was now standing in the encampment he observed the night before. It was empty, everyone was gone. He walked away from the cavern that once trapped him, towards the forest where the roads lay. Volare was determined to discover the tracks they had left behind, he followed them before, he could do it again.
He reached the main dirt road that made its way deeper into the forest, however, there were several other roads connected to it leading in different directions, all of which had crag, horse and human prints.
There were signs telling travellers which road led where, but Volare didn’t know which direction his father was taken. It’s over, he thought. He couldn’t follow every single one of them.
He decided to head back to where the encampment was, maybe he could discover some clues. But it was empty, apart from the remains of hunted animals, ashen logs that once burned and the well-trodden grass that hinted at the presence of a now-gone travelling party.
Volare took off his rucksack and lay on his back. He would enjoy the sun on his skin and stare at the cloudy sky for he missed it more than he realized after being trapped.
I have to go home, I can’t leave mother and brother to fend for themselves. I have to now protect them, as father did. Volare schemed a new plan for himself, his father had protected them so they could go on to live their lives. Volare would ensure he honour his father’s memory by doing just that, live his life and protect his family. He wasn’t sure how exactly he was going to do that, but what he did know was that he couldn’t abandon them. Maybe I should have just died in the cave, mother is going to kill me anyway for running off, thought Volare chuckling to himself.
The sky above seemed so peaceful, calm like there was nothing wrong in the world. But even the sky could turn ugly, deadly in fact with storms and floods. The same too could be said for the state of humans. Stories told to Volare taught him of a time where the world was at peace, a time in which humans, eshin and dwarves collaborated with each other. Such times were long ago, if they even ever existed Volare concluded. A time so long ago that it was now irrelevant.
The dominant lifelings of the planet had been isolated since anyone could remember, no one knew why but some suspected it was because of the destructions. An ancient part of history where it was said the world was destroyed to be reborn as a lesser version of its former self.
Kingdoms rose and fell, dominated by kings and queens, all seeking to grow their influence and power. Now doing so on other continents. King Hastam, who was broadening his claim to lands beyond Ozos and doing what was once thought of as forbidden by the gods; conquering other lifelings. He brought his armies and people and settled in Dritura, forcing the eshin out.
They escaped persecution and war through the Pointed Forest settling in a land now called Ethya, where they could rebuild in peace. Hopeful that the humans would not seek their total destruction by following them south.
Instead, the humans looked to the western lands of Nni, where the dwarves dwelled. This western land was attractive for it was thought that the grounds were rich with precious metals and gems, even more so than on Ozos.
For the briefest moment, Volare thought he saw something spectacular, only told in stories of legend and myth. Above the clouds, casting a dark shadow upon them, Volare thought he saw an enormous creature dwarfed by its own wingspan. What is that? he thought, squinting, trying to peer through the haziness of the clouds. As quickly as it appeared, though, the shadow vanished. I’m seeing things, my mind is lost. I have to get home, Volare decided.
With that thought, he spurred himself to get up, collect his rucksack and start the long trek back home, where his mother would no doubt be worried sick about him. I can’t believe I did this to her, I’m such a fool, he scolded himself. I could never be strong enough to rescue father.
** Chapter 9 **
Journey To The Front
The swarm of wagons rolled on for days. Calidum had lost count after twenty since being taken from his family. He wondered how they fared back in the village.
His heart ached when thinking about not being there for them. His surroundings didn’t change much as the wagon travelled, the land was richly overgrown with trees and other greenery which was beautiful, but didn’t help in the way of navigating.
It was hard to tell one location from the other. The eshin who had lived in Dritura before the human invasion, maintained the health of their lands. They built many roads, some of which were even paved smooth throughout Dritura.
These roads were still being mapped by the royal cartographers and signage was lacking. It was easy to get lost unless one was shown the way.
Cal had been locked up with the others in cages for the majority of his journey, only let out to briefly exercise and relieve himself. The prisoners even had to eat in the wagons, as the guards feared escape, which would bring Trajan’s wrath upon them.
Conditions were squaller for the prisoners, many of them getting sick from the confined spaces, being in such proximity to each other encouraged disease to spread, even in this short period. The guards didn’t show any particular concern for them, they just ensured everyone was fed and locked up. They had cargo to deliver, and that is all that mattered to them, regardless of condition.
“Why won’t they tell us anything?” asked Cen, one of the prisoners travelling in the wagon with Cal. The two had grown to be friends supporting each other through this ordeal.
“I don’t know, but something is off about the whole thing damn it,” replied Cal.
“Yeah, they’ve asked for volunteers to recruit before, but I’ve never heard of the kingdom taking people by force. It’s ghastly, just not right eh,” said Cen.
“Well from what I can tell, we headed west from Vicus for the first few days and then took a turn to the south. The wagons have been steadily dispersing as we head south, which tells me they’re spreading us out along the western border. That’s where the fighting is happening,” explained Cal.
“What in damnation are we gonna do in the war!?” exclaimed Cen. “I don’t know the first thing about fighting eh, I’m a baker for cryin out loud!”
“Maybe they need bakers,” joked Cal, not really believing it himself.
“Hey, we’re turning off!” exclaimed Cen. The other prisoners now taking notice and looking around, trying to figure out exactly where they were and where they were going.
The roads were poorly signed in Dritura’s western edges, bandits roamed in these regions taking advantage of adventurous fools that would seek riches in new and uncharted lands. No doubt the Driturian army had either crushed, driven away or even enlisted them into their ranks by now. Their wagon and several others turned and once again heading west, pushing deeper into unknown territory for Cal.
They travelled well into the night, their only light source being torches held by soldiers and hung on carriages. They would need to stop and make camp soon, even the crags were labouring after a day of exhaustive towing. The wagons once again approached another clearing and parked alongside each other.
A moment where the prisoners could acknowledge one another from their respective cages. Cal recognised several of them to be residents of Vicus, now dishevelled after not washing for days. Do I look like them, damnation do I smell like the others too? wondered Cal.
The soldiers fanned out into the clearing, attendants of the commanders started setting up tents and fires for them to eat and rest. The prisoners would not experience such luxury. Instead, they got what little sleep they could, sitting on a wooden bench inside their cages.
Many relied on the shoulder of the person next to them to serve as a pillow. A bowl of bland tasting slop with a portion of stale hardened bread was served to each of them with the meats and dried produce being consumed by the army. The people of Dritura and Ozos had always prided themselves for being free within the law. This action that had been taken against them was grossly beyond the law. The people thought it strange when King Hastam proclaimed the advancement of the human domain into the continent of Kragea. But the king shared concerns of invasion by the eshin; a pre-emptive strike was necessary.
He sold it to the people as an opportunity to flourish and develop new commerce while protecting the safety of the kingdom. Accessing this opportunity meant to enlist into the military and strike at the eshin, driving them out of their lands and removing the threat entirely.
Many human rights groups spoke out against such an action, protesting in the streets of The City Of Kings but were largely ignored by King Hastam, simply because it was overwhelmingly supported by the people. Hastam promised not only the forgiveness of debt but would also reward loyal and deserving soldiers with an allotment of land. It was irresistible to many, tens of thousands enlisted themselves to fight and fight they did, with a desperation and fervour, not even the king thought possible. He had pinpointed a weakness in his people, and he took full advantage of it. Calidum was one of these men.
A soldier approached Cal’s cage and unlocked it, he was flanked by several armed men. They held a stiff face with beards that needed trimming, it did indeed give the impression they weren’t in the mood to be tested.
“Latrines are ready, let’s go,” barked the solder while unlocking the cage.
The prisoners were escorted to the outskirts of the camp where rudimentary latrines had been dug into the ground. The smell would stay with Calidum until the day he dies. One wagon load of people at a time, took turns to relieve themselves in humiliatingly public settings, while guarded on all sides to prevent escape. A handful had tried it and were beaten to the point of death. Perhaps that fate was better than the one Cal was stuck in.
After their humiliation, they were marched back to the cages where they would spend the night half asleep, in their own stink. Many of them were wishing death upon themselves now, the conditions were made worse by the fact that no one knew where they were being taken or how long it would take. They just had to exist, until their fate was decided for them.
There was no moon on this night, it was eerily dark, and the fires from around the camp cast long shadows giving an ominous feel of oppression. There was no wind either, the trees stood still instead of providing a gentle and consistent rustle.
What was more unusual, however, was the lack of animal sounds in the background, there were no bird calls, no scurrying creatures, it was just silent, still and dark. Most soldiers and even some of the prisoners were now asleep. This camp was significantly smaller than the first one back near Vicus, soldiers were spread thin, which only made them more vigilant against any suspicious activity. There were only a handful of guards now standing watch at the edges of the camp, if only he could escape the cage, maybe he could find a way out of this debacle.
In the distance, a strange crunching sound could be heard, it interrupted Cal’s thoughts of escape as he tried to focus his hearing on what was occurring.
A thud, a crunch, scratching, something was going on out there, but Cal couldn’t tell what it was. He nudged Cen awake, alerting him to the noises. Both men peered into the darkness around them.
Then they saw it, a creature of pure black, about the size of a wolf. It had four powerful legs, with sharp claws gripping the dirt beneath its feet. It had no tail, its body ending somewhat abruptly at its rear. Its head held lifeless black beady eyes that locked onto their prey. Its huge jaws were open, revealing razor-like silver and blood-stained teeth, dripping with the remnants of the guards it had killed.
More of them came into view now, tens of them. Cen kicked his fellow prisoners awake pointing, to the horror only meters away from them. As more awoke, shouts of terror rang out into the night, disturbing the sleep of the soldiers.
“THEY COME!!” an unseen soldier cried out just before blowing his war horn.
The camp exploded with energy, men leaping to their feet in an urgen
cy that their life depended on. They kept their weapons and shields close while keeping most of their armour equipped. Cal had wondered why that was the case, but now it seemed blindingly obvious.
The ink-black creatures charged the camp, throwing themselves at the soldiers who seemed to be well drilled in countering their leaps. Shields would be thrown up first blocking the charge and mouths of the creatures, followed by a slash with a razor-sharp sword. The soldiers cleaved the beasts into pieces showing skill and strength. The monsters kept coming, however, their numbers seemed endless, they overwhelmed some soldiers by teaming up, tearing them apart before others could fight them off.
From the central tent a man who had introduced himself as Commander Bhogh stepped out, he was wearing black plate, studded with diamonds, like the one High Commander Trajan wore. His armour must have been tailor smithed for him, considering he was a hulking man. He carried a massive two-handed greatsword, also studded with a ruby in its hilt.
Cal recognised this combination well, the diamond embedded black plate armour gave its wearer superhuman strength, the magic of it was extraordinary.
Few smiths could forge such sturdy plated steel to withstand the power exuded by the gems. Cal had learned through rumour that the secret was in the alloying process but could never pry the details out of the master smiths travelling with the military during the invasion of Dritura. The gems also had to be mined from specific locations deep within the planet and fused with the plate in particular positions on the body during the smithing process, but all these were vague descriptions and didn’t help Cal understand it.
The fabrication of black plate was tightly held knowledge by the king and the punishment for any smith to reveal its secrets, was torture. Only one smith ever had spoken about it in vague terms, giving birth to the rumour that was still circulated in taverns today. He was spared no mercy, and to this day, those rumours hadn’t been bolstered by any loose lips. Cal also understood the locations of the mines to be top secret and heavily guarded. The diamond enhanced physical strength and prowess while the ruby studded into a weapon gave the wielder authority over fire.
