by Umut Ersezer
The commander stepped forward, hulking over his subordinates with a smile on his face, he relished fighting these creatures for where the eshin would cower and avoid him, these beasts came at him without fear or consideration. Though their numbers were great, they lacked even basic tactics beyond their base instinct to attack. They were monsters to be slaughtered, and Bhogh never lost sight of that.
He slid his full-face helmet onto his head, with only a slit allowing him to see out from, held his sword into the night sky where the blade burst into flame casting the camp into a well-lit death fighting arena.
He charged at the creatures, as they tried snapping their jaws at the humans and he cleaved several of them in half with a swing. He was a man possessed with raw power. The tide of the battle quickly turned in the human’s favour, the ground was now littered with indistinguishable piles of dark masses, many of which had caught on fire from Bhogh’s sword.
All at once, the creatures stopped, looked skyward, turned from the battle and ran back into the forest. They retreated from the fight appearing to have cut their losses and avoid more. The soldiers were left panting, they had fought well, they didn’t look phased by what had attacked them.
It showed Cal that they had experience fighting these creatures. He now understood why Trajan didn’t explain the details of what they would face, for it would be unbelievable and terrifying to civilians.
The first response would be to run away. The safety of Ozos and the walls of its cities would provide the shelter that their simple villages could not. Running would be quite impossible now, however, they were being carted to war and would be forced to fight, capable or not.
Commander Bhogh walked a lap of the encampment assessing his troops, providing feedback and encouragement where appropriate. Some soldiers showed signs of fear and a lack of aggression, Bhogh was quick to scold this behaviour, expecting only the fiercest of fighting attitudes amongst his ranks.
The night returned to eerie stillness, with the aftermath of the battle sprawled out in front of Cal. The innards of men were exposed and hanging from decapitated bodies, it was a sight of butchery Cal was, unfortunately, familiar with.
The dark creatures seemed to bleed a thick black viscous substance. It clung to the armour and clothes of the soldiers, not wanting to be wiped free.
Their bodies were slowly dissolving into the ground as if acid had been poured over them, slowly eating away at their flesh. Soldiers were now working on digging graves and also creating fires just outside of camp, no doubt to burn the bodies of the creatures.
Cal was relieved to see the soldiers burying their fellow men instead of burning them alongside the creatures. He thought that it showed they still held onto some semblance of humanity, despite how they treated the prisoners. They didn’t seem phased by carrying their torn fellow soldiers, Cal suspected they had done it many times before. Their faces were blank as if numbed to the horrors that just occurred.
If any consolation could be thought it would be that only a handful of soldiers had died in the battle, against the tens of creatures that charged at them. The numbers told a story of devastating victory for the humans.
Commander Bhogh made his way to the carriages that held the prisoners, his sword resting upon his shoulder. He had commanded the fire into silence, but the sheer size and edge of the sword he carried was intimidating in itself.
“Welcome to the darkspawn war,” he said with a smirk on his face.
With that, he turned back and walked to his tent. Satisfied with his efforts to protect the camp, he would sleep soundly tonight.
The humans had now been fighting long enough to formulate patterns of behaviour and strategise against them. Bhogh was confident the darkspawn would not return, a second wave was always very rare. Even if they did return, he would simply enjoy killing more of them.
The human stratagems enhanced their effectiveness in combat to the point of nullifying the advancement of the darkspawn. If it were to be a war of attrition, however, the darkspawn would win. Their number seemed to be infinite as they kept pouring over the hills in the west. The humans couldn’t hold them forever, more decisive action had to be taken to take the fight to the darkspawn.
From all over Dritura and the mainland Ozos, soldiers and civilians were being transported to the front line. The king would not suffer a loss, and he would do all that it takes to defeat his enemies. His generals and high commanders were all too pleased to bolster their ranks and grow their armies to control.
“What in damnation were they doing here!?” Cal heard one soldier asking another.
“It looked like a small force of them, maybe they were scouting deeper into our territory,” said the other soldier.
“Bumping into us by accident hey, but what are they scouting for?”
“Not sure, it’s definitely strange to see them all the way out here, we’re about half a day’s march to the front. We haven’t observed them collecting intelligence before, maybe it’s a new behaviour. I’m not sure how they would have got through our lines either, again maybe it was just a smaller scouting party, they could have slipped through a blind spot we weren’t aware of. The commander will notify the generals soon enough, and it’ll be sorted.”
“I bloody hope so, we can’t have’em running into Dritura.”
“It would be…bad, I agree. We’ll find out more about how this happened tonight once we get to Honour Haven.”
So that’s where we’re going, thought Cal.
The prisoners in the cages were silent and in a state of shock. Finally, it had been revealed, plainly and for all to see, the situation they were being carted into. The looks of terror in their eyes left Cal despondent. What in damnation were these darkspawn? They had never been seen before. Why do they attack? I pray to the gods they are okay. I pray in the name of Korali to keep my family safe. Protect Vicus with your might. Guard them against fiends of the night. Fight in their place for they do not know how. I pray to you Korali and the Gods, have mercy.
** Chapter 10 **
The Precipice
Volare wiped the sweat from his brow as he pulled up veamber from their family farm. The mood of the village was sombre, there was a dullness to how people went about their daily chores. It seemed as if the energy itself had been sucked out of them. With half the people of the village missing, it was so much quieter. Many had actually abandoned the idea of meeting any quotas for the collectors. What was the point of trying, it would be impossible now. People just farmed and fished to fill their own belly.
His mother tended the field just ahead of him, she had barely spoken since that day. The strength she usually carried herself with had vanished, she felt defeated, lost even. Her love, Calidum was taken from her, and there wasn’t anything anyone could do, including Volare. The night he returned to the village, his mother was furious with him, while also trying to show her love.
It was a confusing minute where Fidum alternated between hugging Volare tightly enough to squeeze the air out of him, then scolding him for making her worry so much. She wasn’t quite sure what she should have been feeling, so all of her emotions manifested in some way or another.
This quietness was anguish, deep and utter grief for the loss of her husband. She had told the boys that it could be years before they saw their father again, but her eyes also warned that they may not see him at all, ever. Amet stayed close to Volare rarely leaving his side, and if he wasn’t with Volare, he was with his mother. He wouldn’t let either of them out of his sight. He carried a stuffed action figure his father had given to him for his most recent birthday. He clung onto it tightly, getting dirt on it while he farmed. Neither Volare or Fidum could bring themselves to tell him to leave it at home. They were all grieving in their own way.
“Hey Amet, you wanna go fishing?” called out Volare.
Fidum looked at him, smiling for the first time in days. She was proud of him, despite his foolishness, she could see Calidum’s spirit within him. Her heart w
armed when her boys were close, they would stick together, go on with life as a family.
“I think that’s a wonderful idea, how about it Amet? I can finish off here. Why don’t you two bring us home a nice big scopa we can cook up on the fire.” Fidum encouraged.
“No thanks, I think I’ll just pull these up,” Amet said in a low tone, never lifting his head to speak.
Fidum and Volare exchanged looks, expressions of concern written on their faces. Fidum approached Volare and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I’ll talk to him, see if I can get him to play a game with you later tonight. You go on and catch that fish for us, I think a nice hearty meal will do wonders for us all.”
Volare nodded in agreement and with that, Fidum gave him a long hug. Volare turned and left their farm, making his way through the village on his way to the port.
The usual calls from the merchants asking customers to approach were absent. There was no hustle and bustle of the previous days, no smells of freshly cooked bread and meat enticing the villagers to buy their lunch. People were walking around with their heads down, a look of defeat upon their faces. We can’t continue like this. What can I do? Should I be doing something? Volare wondered. No, last time my plans didn’t work out so well, it’s not my business. These people grieve the kidnappings of their loved ones, there’s nothing I can do to fix that. I need to focus on my mother and brother. I’m going to catch the biggest blasted scopa for dinner tonight. I’ll make Amet happy again. Gods I miss the old days.
He walked by and peered into the local church building, which was like most other common meeting places, empty. Only the priests and priestesses were inside, praying to the gods.
It was a modest building compared to other churches of the kingdom, or so Volare had been told. It was built from a combination of timber and stone, taller than any other in the village. It had 4 spires at each corner of the roof, reaching even further into the sky. It was thought the spires helped worshippers connect with Korali, the god of humans. There was a statue of a man hung up on one of the walls inside, it was supposed to be in Korali’s image. How do they know he looks like that? Volare wondered. He questioned a lot about the churches’ teachings.
They all just seemed like stories of old, there was never any proof for anything they said. Some of the other boys considered Volare as a heretic for not believing as much as he should, for not accepting what was taught.
Against the behest of the church, Volare’s parents had never seemed religious, never teaching the doctrines of the church to him. The adults didn’t ignore them as the children ignored Volare though, perhaps they were too polite. He only learned of some doctrine details in passing from the other children. Maybe these events would test even the most faithful.
Volare left them to their prayers and continued for the port. It was like the rest of the village, mostly empty. The majority of the fishermen had been taken, they were often burly and seasoned men, most likely attracting the attention of Trajan and his men. His father owned a small vessel that they used to take out together for fishing trips. That too now seemed a distant memory.
Volare untied the boat from its cleat, climbing aboard before it had a chance to float away. It was a boat large enough to comfortably seat 4 men, but not equipped for commercial fishing purposes.
Cal had originally purchased it for his family to go fishing, but in recent times he carried fishermen and worked together with the fishing boats to maximise their daily catches.
Before rowing out, he took stock of his required materials. Four fishing rods with lures and bait, plenty of water had been left behind, although Volare wouldn’t risk drinking that. The sun would set in a couple of hours, and he hoped to be back well before then. The fishermen hadn’t bothered to unload their materials from that day, the last thing they probably expected was to be abducted. So Volare would make use of it.
He gripped the oars and began rowing out from the port into the open sea, his father had shown him the best fishing spot for scopa, it was about 400 metres from the port. The distance made Volare nervous, but he was comforted that he could still clearly see the village.
**
The two and a half hours the sun took to set, dragged eternally long. The sun now washed the horizon in vibrant red and orange tones, even purple could be seen bleeding into the darkening sky high above him. Sunsets in Vicus could be truly wondrous things, magical even. It always left Volare with a sense of wonder and awe.
The ocean and sky were so big, and he was so small, he wondered about his place among the stars, the insignificance of himself. But this moment didn’t seem inconsequential, his family was relying on him, to bring home food to fill their stomachs. He knew there would be a disappointment if he failed them. Especially not after what he had done to his mother days earlier.
He had to make them happy again. But Volare hadn’t caught a single fish. Have we fished them all out, surely not? Volare wondered. The sea was strangely barren. He had tried shifting positions raising and lowering his anchor in various fishing spots but could only catch the smallest of fish. I gotta get that scopa Volare urged himself. I can’t go home empty-handed.
The sun was now dangerously low, he could see the first stars winking into view, their twinkle a constant reminder that there was so much more up there, beyond the sky, but what? Volare often found himself wishing he could fly to the heavens themselves to explore.
The sun had all but set now, the chill of the night was setting in. Volare reached for the artefact he had fashioned into a necklace. He held it tightly under his shirt, for he had come to rely upon it when he felt cold or lonely. He would squeeze it, which would result in a warm wave flushing throughout his body.
He felt hopeful when he held it, although he didn’t know why. Perhaps it was nothing more than what Amet felt holding his stuffed action figure. Volare had polished it since returning home. He had never seen metal like it. It was so smooth and uniform in its colour. It looked old but held no blemishes, it seemed impossible to scratch or dent. The cleaning also revealed much more exquisite detail engraved into it.
Intricate patterns and more symbols, impossibly small for a chisel, were decorated into it. It was beautiful and Volare on several occasions, caught himself staring at it.
A shout sounded from the village. Volare peered into the growing darkness, trying to make out where in the village it came from. There were more shouts and cries. They seemed panicked. A fire erupted from the village square, growing in intensity as the seconds passed. No! They can’t be back already, how many more would they take? There’s going to be nothing left, Volare anguished. He grabbed the oars and started rowing back to port.
The screams were getting louder and more frequent, there were more fires now breaking out. How could they set the village on fire? Volare thought. He rowed as hard as he could, but he had drifted further out than he realised, it would take him some time to reach the port.
Volare occasionally turned around to look, he could make out people running for the hills around the village, and he noticed they were being chased. The soldiers brought dogs this time! They’re using dogs to catch people, they’ve gone mad! His thoughts were with his mother and brother, would they make it to the trap door in time? Who would cover it back up? I will, he thought. I have to get back, I have to protect them. But he was still so far out, and the screams only grew in intensity.
Volare willed his muscles to row faster, he ignored his muscles resisting his will. His arms burned with fatigue, but he didn’t relent. He took another look back, this time seeing more detail to the shadowy shapes darting throughout the village. Are those dogs…or something else? he wondered.
Then to his horror, he could make out under the flickering light of a fire, a creature of some sort jump on the back of a villager, biting into her back. It was tearing at her with massive jaws and teeth, biting with ferocious anger. This can’t be happening, I must be dreaming. Volare could only watch the horror unfold before his e
yes, he was immobilised by the state of shock he was in. He saw more creatures bring down villagers, biting at them, tearing their limbs off. He looked towards the Watchmen Cliffs that neighboured the village. At the top of it stood a lone hooded figure. Volare could barely make him out, the sun was so far below the horizon now, but there he stood. His black cloak was blowing in the wind around him, but he was frozen still, just observing the carnage below.
He held a staff with his right hand, he slammed it three times against the ground, and an orb that sat atop the staff started glowing white, illuminating himself. Volare stared intently but could not make out any further detail. Why is he hooded like that? What is he doing? A silence fell over the village, there were no more cries of anguish or shouts of terror.
It was so quiet. Volare witnessed shadowy creatures flee into the forests surrounding Vicus. He sat there in his boat, trying to rationalise what he had seen. Mother! Amet! Thoughts of his family flashed into his mind as he gripped onto the oars tightly and rowed his way into port, it felt like it took him an eternity to do so.
He tied the boat to its cleat and snuck as quietly as he could to the edge of the port building. He peered through the gate, into the darkness. Some fires had spread to multiple homes, there was a risk that the whole village could go up in flames. I have to get home, they’ll be waiting for me in the secret basement, Volare thought.
He crouched low and made his way down the streets away from the port before finding the first body, ripped apart. He held his hand to his mouth to prevent a scream and emptying his stomach onto the ground. What could do such a thing? This isn’t some predator, nothing is eaten. There is only murder.
He crept further into the village, the body count increasing to terrifying numbers. Is everyone dead? No, they can’t be! He hastened his pace to his home, now ignoring the walls that were painted in blood and bodies that tormented the village.
