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[Coldforged: Shadows of War] Prologue: Flight
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[Coldforged: Shadows of War] Prologue: Flight
#41I know when you lie... Marcus uttered those exact words when he asked me whether I enjoyed pleasing a customer of his, a fat merchant from the city on the three hills. I derived no joy from what I did; the merchant just dropped his pants, threw me on a table and had his will with me... I bring joy to others; they never bring it to me.
That truth infuriated Marcus, he wanted me to desire what I do, to crave it like Yeddion and Onatha does. That night I lost my status as his favourite concubine and my life was turned into hell, an endless series of abuse and humiliation.
"Skinning me alive, miss? Pardon me, but I can think of better things to do in a storm, like seeking shelter or catching up with your friends" Solstara said, smiling genuinely.
Sternflucht had noticed Sharee's small wink and approached the unfortunate wench, laying a reassuring arm on her shoulder. "Oh, Sharee, this girl is no threat. Just tell us everything you can think of and we'll let you go, that is a promise".
"Well, Marcus is here to find some royal symbol within the ruins of the old palace. It is said to be the sign of the true royal heir of Ardamien. Anyone of the royal Ardamien bloodline possessing it would probably be acknowledged as the true ruler of the land, rendering the King's claim invalid" as Solstara spoke the mercenaries remembered the tales of the Ring of Keldon, the true sign of the monarch, now considered lost at some point in antiquity. "The King of Silmaroth is afraid the enemy might attempt to gain Ardamien by giving it to one of his many relatives and appointing him as a puppet King of Ardamien, in effect incorporating it into the empire. So the King ordered the royal sages to scour through the library, to discover the last known location of the old symbol of power. The last known references took us here, to the ruins of the City of Kings" Solstara looked genuine as she spoke, her voice was loud. She seemed enthusiastic and engaged in what she was speaking about.
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Endless legions with spears of steel, stained with blood. Warriors clad in leather and steel, symbols of power carved into the thick hides of the Varmung beasts. Our warriors all hail us, bow before their commander. It is spring in the City of Kings and the king himself will bestow upon us the greatest honour.
The greatest honour.
Gaumawaila, our loved one, the king has chosen us for the honour, do not look so sad. We will remember you always.
Remember you always.
It slid through the underbrush. The scent of the prey was strong now; it could feel it as well as other smells. The smell of essence was strong too. Someone had been drinking deeply from the flow of the essences, drawing its attention.
Powerful limbs covered in arcane tattoos brimming with power, infused with the spark of the divine, soundlessly navigated the treacherous sloped forest floor. The leaves had been soaked in slush and made no sound as the horror slid by, approaching six figures engaged in a conversation. It could sense the life signatures emanating from five of them as well as the odd signature emanating from the sixth.
Our prey has been violated. Fell auras surround her genitals and her entire abdomen, though she no longer carries her dangerous offspring. She will never bear children again.
There is the witch, the one we could sense. The one who drew us here. The one we will savour. Ahhhh, she is of the forbidden race. We will drink her blood then... No, we will drink her soul, search through her mangled corpse, and find its place of hiding so we can claim it.
Ah, the guardians surround these ones. Graathor, Tan-Tanorden... We can see you our children. We can sense you. We will avenge you.
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"...and so Marcus has collected bits of hair, blood, excrements, clothing... Everything that you left behind in the city or on the journey. He is not an ordinary noble; he is a heretic, a wizard, an abomination. These things give him power. I have seen him face to face with a HexenJaeger, smiling as he was condemned. I have seen him pull out a small jar containing that Hexenjaeger's blood as well as other things... And when he crushed that jar..." Solstara looked directly into the eyes of Flare, who had been listening attentively to her tale. She smiled a sad smile and shook her head. Then she once again looked into the eyes of the mercenaries "You are his toys too now. He owns you. He owns your soul. There are some kind of guardians in this place, the tribe of the royal line, the tribe you fought, as well as something else... Something created by the Shamans of antiquity. Something truly horrible."
The trees sheltered Sternflucht's squad from the worst onslaught of the storm, yet they all had to wrap their cloaks about them. Sternflucht himself had no cloak anymore, the price of being gallant, so he took cover by a dense bush.
When Flare and Domunsoka next looked upon the sergeant, he had disappeared. He had made no sound, simply vanished. Hans Sternflucht was nowhere in sight. -
[Coldforged: Shadows of War] Prologue: Flight
#42The ghost doll stiffened. Sternflucht nowhere in sight. The wooden man swept blank face from side to side, looking for the blonde man, and it's hands balled into wooden fists.
Surreptitiously, it moved toward Flare- the alchemist also seemed alerted to the disappearance of Sternflucht. It stood, fists at sides, and stared blankly (as it was created) at Flare, adopting a pose which suggested alertness. -
[Coldforged: Shadows of War] Prologue: Flight
#43Flare noticed the wooden doll and glanced around. The sergeant was gone. Flare nodded to Domunsoka and crept through the brush toward Sharee. He kept his voice down as low as possible for her to still hear him over the storm.
"We have two issues. One, Domunsoka and I have lost track of Sternflucht and can't find him. Two, this girl is either intentionally lying or was lied to and believed it. Leavings from that many men? Marcus would need some way to carry it all and we had no carriage or wagon with anything suspicious. Something's wrong here." -
[Coldforged: Shadows of War] Prologue: Flight
#44"So then, let's stand with the backs to each other, and place the wench as bait in a freely visible place. That's what she deserves for lying."
I leaned against Flare, for protection and likewise for support. Those legs of mine - I'd have thought that after all the travelling with the mercs, they'd carry me longer.
My stave and the alchemist giving me sufficient support, I whispered to the spirit-shards of deceased forest critters, mice caight by foxes, beetles picked by birds, whose essences haunted the soil for a few hours before departing: "Spread out, little ones, and give me a sign, when a beast of prey, intent on kill, your little whiskers spy..." -
[Coldforged: Shadows of War] Prologue: Flight
#45Flare held Sharee firmly as she whispered her sorcerous spell to the ghosts of the forest. She was cold now, unlike anything he had ever felt before, and she was unable to fully support her own weight, depending on him and leaning on her stave. As he had done many times before, Flare let the fingers on his free hand trace the outline of the flasks and ingredients in his pockets, noticing how much he had left. He was preparing for a possible fight.
Sharee extended her senses, reached out to the animals of the forest. They were all unusually quiet today, as if in hiding or having fled the region. With all her energy she reached out and in one place she felt a presence, her spirit brushed against it, and it was cold, uncaring and set on murder. Shuddering she withdrew from that malignant beast, silently dreading whatever it might be, and reached to new places. There... In one of the bushes, under the foliage, nestled between the moss and the fallen leaves, pressing against the stem for protection, was a tiny animal spirit.
It was known as Firrin, a small forest rodent killed a year ago by a wasting disease. It was now mortified by what was happening. Sharee embraced it with her essence, comforted it, promised it riches beyond counting, mountains of nuts and sweet roots, and slowly the terrified spirit calmed down and began whispering, squeaking small secrets known only to the forest animals. Of bountiful trees full of precious nuts it spoke, and of things considered important by the small and tiny, but between such trivial information words were repeated, images of horror threatening to overwhelm the tiny mind. "Crawling, crawling, beast of the city. Come to feast on the flesh of you, pretty" the words were repeated and Sharee sensed the image of a creature, much like a human, crawling on all four. "It can spy both you and me, sense spirits and ordinary things! It knows the secrets of mind and matter. It is here, nearby. Hide Alvensong, friend of the nature, first born race, hide!". Though the phrases it used was unknown to the elven witch, the meaning was clear.
Dietrich held the slave girl as Flare held Sharee, tight against their chests for one woman was nearly unconscious and the other fearing for her life. Flare saw Sharee's eyes roll back in her head and she began bleeding from her nose, yet somehow she remained conscious and he could feel spasms through her body. Dietrich just stood there, whispering something and stroking the slave through her hair.
The pleasure slave had been gaping ever since Flare had spoken. Thoughts were racing through her head, doubts and fears, but most of all regret. She was regretting the moment Marcus had purchased her. The alchemist was right, of course. But she had not seen it before this moment. Marcus always laughed at her, told her she was naive in her sweet little way, but he had also been manipulating her, telling her of the horrible ways in which she would die if she did not do as he said. If she did not succumb to his every little desire. More than a master of magic, Marcus was a master of twisting the minds of people, either locking them within the cold embrace of fear or subverting people until they were mindless drones, lapdogs abiding his every command. Now she would pay for his conniving ways, as the mercenaries were about to sacrifice her to something she did not perceive but most certainly felt. "I just told you what he told me" she said, her voice quivering.
Nearby bushes shook visibly, red berries and leaves falling off, when suddenly Sternflucht burst from them, landing in the middle of the mercenaries. Blood was seeping through his chain armour, a wound on his shoulder drenching the iron rings with dark crimson fluids. He collapsed on the ground, his breathing laboured and his face more pale than usual. Something round had pierced his armour; a spear or something akin to a spear, only thicker. Dietrich let the girl go and instantly took up position above his sergeant, a sword in his hands. If anything the sleet fell even quicker now, and visibility had been reduced to less than twenty feet. He could barely see Domunsoka on the other side of Sharee and Flare.
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The men of Shimrakhan descended from the mountains, armed with their alchemical wonders and their strengthened steel. Their high mages levelled the mountainside with their hell fire and explosions of bluish flames. The guardians of Mount Keldon stood not a chance, the magic, steel and alchemical mixtures thinning their ranks by the second. Then we struck. We tore through their ranks, oblivious to their magic, dodging their alchemy. And when we reached the high mages on their elevated position, they truly screamed. They howled in terror as we tore them to pieces, but their screams were nothing compared to the shrieks of their souls as we found them before they found their afterlife.
We remember the call of the Shaman; Tan-Tanegan, the fourtieth shaman of the mountain. He called us then as Tan-Tanorden has called us now. But the ages change. Oh, yes they change, and this time the invaders are fewer, armed more poorly than the dangerous men of Bluethon
The thing stared through the foliage, studied the alert wooden figure where it stood, sword in hand. The wooden man clearly had a soul, he could see it bound to the wooden frame, though likely the soul had been bound there by someone or something. The soul was old though, nearly as old as the essences of the men from the Bluethon army whose souls he devoured so long ago.
The thing crept closer. Studied. Sensed. Waited until the time was right.
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In a distant place, within a cold mountain prison, a young woman crouched. She was sweating heavily as she traced an intricate rune onto a tile on the prison floor. It was a circular rune, and within it was the Serpent, the river and the rock, and the scorpion as well as other signs both major and minor. Her sightless eyes stared at the stone roof, and she nodded gravely.
The time had indeed come. Time for change and freedom.
Sighing she began tracing the last piece of the combined rune; the sign of the Covenant of Keldon. -
[Coldforged: Shadows of War] Prologue: Flight
#46A slight tingle of a taste spicy and delicate crossed my lips - until I realized that it was... blood. My blood.
Much unlike most, I found the scent of blood ... tantalizing, invigorating, deligtful... I wondered for a split second what it would be like if the curse had befallen me and not my beloved.
"Stand firm, men" I spoke "for you did not have the time to recieve a priest's blessing - if you die this day, you'll end up in the Hells with me."
A shudder crept down my spine as I eyed the forest, the tingling of a predator's gaze, slowly like a cat stalking through the undergrowth...
'Come forth, darling...' I thought. -
[Coldforged: Shadows of War] Prologue: Flight
#47Flare could feel the gaze of the infernal predator on him, though he could not see any sign of it. He knelt on the ground and, with his index finger, drew a small shape in the mud, similar to a crescent moon with a figure-8 overtop. It was a minor show of faith in his ancestors, a symbol of warding, though he didn't really expect this hunter to be frightened away by such a small and weak charm. It was more to help make any overlooking ancestors feel appeased. He reached into his coat and pulled out another flask of acid, tightening his grip on the spear haft with the other hand. He waited..... -
[Coldforged: Shadows of War] Prologue: Flight
#48It happened so fast, the mercenaries did not even register movement before Domunsoka was hurled through the air, colliding violently with a tree, his right arm torn off by the impact. The construct dropped limply to the ground and nearly fell off the cliff, but slowly it rolled back a safe distance from the edge. Turning about, holding Sharee firmly in his arms, Flare looked upon the naked man-thing that had emerged from the forest. It was immense, nearly eight feet tall, and its entire body was covered in arcane tattoos which formed a myriad different runes and symbols. It was almost like the tattoos emanated a humming sound, a deep bass, and they could feel the resonance in their stomachs and chests, vibrating with an unsettling intensity.
Panic surged through him and Flare hurled his vial through the air, but it missed its mark and only splatters of acid hit the monstrosity as the vial crushed against a nearby tree. The beast roared, its distorted human face twisting menacingly, revealing fangs and an incredibly long, pointed tongue. Its eyes regarded Flare, inhuman eyes they were, akin to deep black pools of oil or some other murky liquid. It was if they were beckoning him, threatening to suck him in. Then the creature moved. Flare could hear Dietrich bellow his war cry, but before he could react the huge monstrosity was upon him, burrowing its tongue deep into his chest. The alchemist’s vision swam and then all was black.
Dietrich charged the beast, his sword sliced through the air and actually cut deep into its right flank. The thing had already pierced Flare’s chest with a long, black tongue that stuck out of its mouth like a curved spear or like a thick, taut vein. And like a vein the tongue pulsated as the horror drank from Flare’s lifeblood. Screaming with rage Dietrich cut it again and again and soon the right arm and torso of the beast was covered with deep wounds. Still the creature did not react and then, with a quick, casual stroke, the horror lashed out against Dietrich, its black nails burrowing deeply into the warrior’s cheek and neck. The last sound Dietrich heard, before silence arrived, was a woman screaming.
Mother…
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The God-thing crept over the dying; savouring its victory, until it stood above the witch whose spells had called him. She was a rare sight, the blood from her nose in stark contrast with her pale skin. It let its tongue caress her for a moment before it decided to study the wooden man whose spirit was spying on him. It could feel its eyes, if eyes were the proper term.
The stubborn wooden thing clutched a sword in its left arm, the only arm that was still attached to its body, and was trying to get back on feet. Slowly circling the construct, the horror studied Domunsoka with an amused look upon its beastly face.
Then someone spoke. It was a single word. A name. His name.
“K’thandaur�
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Sharee laid unconscious on the ground, now released from the grip of Flare whose unsteady breathing spoke of his close brush with death. Her spirit was still aware and when the newcomer arrived she willingly allowed it to enter her body, possess it and claim it for itself. She could feel the newcomer forcing her body to awaken, then watched in amazement as it arose and spoke a single word.
“K’thandaur�
The horror which she had felt in the forest, and which had apparently decimated her friends, was circling Domunsoka, but turned about impossibly fast as she spoke its name. Sharee felt her arms being extended, watched as she plucked a leaf from an oak and marvelled as the spirit within commanded the creature to stop.
“Why?� the thing suddenly said. “Why do you do this?�
Sharee could feel her head being shaken, and then she saw the beast charging her with blinding speed. She cringed with fear. She wanted to run, to scream, to beg forgiveness. She did naught; the presence within only tore the leaf in two and the creature froze.
“You have become powerful my son, my jailor, my dearest love. But you are still bound by the covenant. Those tattoos give you power, but they also limit you severely; anyone with the right knowledge could kill you outright with just a breath�. Sharee could feel the presence within stir. Felt it nodding to Domunsoka, which responded by creeping towards the beast with its sword raised.
“Nooooo, mother!� the thing begged pitifully, its dark eyes shedding nine black tears which ran down its cheek and fell to the ground, crystallizing upon impact with the ground.
“You jailed me my son. Your power corrupted you and you turned away from your task. You were once the greatest of our warriors, the noblest of our kin, but your nobility was… undone… by the covenant... I presume, though that is a dangerous presumption. I… I am sorry�
With one quick stroke Domunsoka parted the beast’s head from its shoulders, then the construct simply fell to the ground, dysfunctional.
“Oh dear� the presence said and Sharee felt herself being lulled asleep. “It is time for me to reforge the created, to revalidate the covenant and for the line of Keldon to be reinstated. But first we got to stop that troublesome mage�.
End of the Prologue