Rolen knelt to earth on a small unpaved roadway at the southern end of the village. His eyes played skillfully over the scene before him, two lines of giant footprints mashed heavily into the earth. The prints were unlike anything Rolen had seen, but he had no doubt what creature had left them there. Rolen raised his gaze finally to the granite mountain peaks that guarded the valley village. Stone giants were a force to reckon with, especially in the numbers Rolen guessed had entered the village. But where had they gone?
Rolen stood, looking up the winding path that disappeared into the dense forest. The giant stone boulders lining the path, as well as the village border as far as Rolen could see in either direction, must have taken a great effort to put in place. Surely the villagers had exerted such energy as a line of defense against the creatures of the forest. But there were no gates, and the spaces between the boulders were wide enough to let any enemy through the line created by the lumps of stone. This was no kind of fortification for a village that felt threatened by the wilderness surrounding it. So why line the pathway and the village's border with these boulders?
Rone stood at Rolen's back, an arrow notched to the taut bowstring of the longbow he carried. His stomach churned within him. Whether it was bellyrot from the kettlefire breakfast the company cook had prepared, or the uneasiness settling on him, he didn't know. His palms were sweating. He wished Rolen would get them both out of the middle of the road. They were exposed and he had a feeling they weren't alone.
"We shouldn't be here." Rolen's eyes were still on the boulders. Suddenly there was something very unnatural about them, something...
"I know. We've been away too long. The others must have reported in already."
Rolen turned to see Rone slipping an arrow back into the quiver slung across his back.
"Rone!" But the warning came too late. The giant boulder to Rone's left suddenly sprang to life, transforming into a huge Stone Giant and exposing itself to the enemy so deftly Rone hadn't had a chance to react before being yanked off his feet in the vice-like grip of the killer freak of nature.
Rolen heard the sickening crunch of Rone's spine and ribs as the giant squeezed the life from his body. Slowly Rolen moved away from the giant, pulling the knife-blades carried by all scouts from their leather sheaths. He knew there was no chance of winning this fight, but he'd fight just the same.
The giant looked hard at Rolen, Rone's body hanging limp in its clenched hand. Then, in unison, the boulders all around Rolen sprang quietly to life and disappeared into the village.
Rolen slipped into a fighting stance, waiting for the giant to strike him down. He didn't even know if his steel blades could penetrate the thick, stony hide of the giant, but he'd snap both blades on the creature trying. He watched as the giant's right hand closed into a fist and knew his death was only seconds away. Suddenly the forest was alive, he could smell everything, the trees, flowers, the very earth under his feet. Sweat raced down his temples on either side of his head. Then the giant placed the stone fist on the ground in front of Rolen, lowering itself to peer into Rolen's eyes.
"Your commander has chosen you, Rolen son of Fenn. Others have not been so lucky. Today is not your day to die, live and fight the battles you have been spared for with honor. Serve your commander well."
Rolen felt the blades he had held in tight fists falling from his hands. He could reach for the bull's horn hanging at his side, send the warning, but then the giant turned and hurled Rone's lifeless body through the air in the direction of Mufaun's waiting battalion.
The alarm had been sent.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Monday, September 24, 2007
Chapter Three
Mufaun rode down the hill and into the forest. Oakhaven would be deserted, he knew that, its people had been warned of the pending destruction at the hands of the Emperor’s Grand Marshall. Hopefully, hopefully they had done as he had suggested. As he entered the village, he found exactly what he had hoped: an army with no one to fight.
The soldiers stood dumbfounded in the streets of the village. How could the villagers possibly have been fooled by a handful of common folk? Some sorcery was at work here, some magic the soldiers had not yet faced. Many had been serving under Mufaun for many years. They were no stranger to battles, no child to the mysteries of the uncivilized world. But this, this vanishing act perpetrated by a whole village without a trace of their flight was something none of them, even the most seasoned, had seen. So they turned to their leader, the man they trusted above all others.
Mufaun brought his horse to standstill amidst his soldiers and sat quietly, listening. The village was silent. Silent in a way that was unsettling, not as though the inhabitants had abandoned it willingly, but as something evil had driven them from it. The men began to get restless, shifting about, turning to keep their backs away from the unsettling darkness in each of the buildings.
“Captain Steed.”
A Knight stepped to his commander’s side. A battle horn hung at his side. A visible relief ran through the silent battalion at the sound of their leader. Mufaun's voice was calm, soothing in its confidence. And suddenly, everything was business as usual.
“Yes, my lord.” Steed was a man larger than most, partly because of the Orrish blood that ran through his veins, but mostly just because he was. The Orres were a fiercely loyal people. And Steed served only one master.
“Have your scouts scour the village. I want to know where the villagers have gone, then have them gather what supplies they can.”
“They’re already hard at it, my lord.”
Steed was Mufaun’s only friend. There were no secrets between them. Not one. And it made Steed all the more fiercely loyal to his commander. Mufaun was counting on Steed, not only as a friend but as a soldier as well. Even if they made it through the day, by nightfall, there would be few who would stand with them, not for lack of loyalty, but for fear of the Emperor. He couldn’t expect his soldiers to follow him to an end that surely lead to nothing more than a cold soulless tomb. Many of them had homes, wives, children. He didn’t. Steed didn’t. And the four other captains who had sworn fealty to Mufaun, had little they feared to lose when, if they succeeded in their endeavor, what they might gain was beyond their wildest dreams.
The soldiers began to relax. They were all familiar with how Mufaun set about securing a city of any size. He was thorough, ordered, and well-practiced at taking control of a strange new land, be it city or wilderness. He’d been taught well, and his men trusted him above all other commanders. All they had to do for the moment was wait for the scouts to report in. Once the reports were in, the real work would begin.
The soldiers stood dumbfounded in the streets of the village. How could the villagers possibly have been fooled by a handful of common folk? Some sorcery was at work here, some magic the soldiers had not yet faced. Many had been serving under Mufaun for many years. They were no stranger to battles, no child to the mysteries of the uncivilized world. But this, this vanishing act perpetrated by a whole village without a trace of their flight was something none of them, even the most seasoned, had seen. So they turned to their leader, the man they trusted above all others.
Mufaun brought his horse to standstill amidst his soldiers and sat quietly, listening. The village was silent. Silent in a way that was unsettling, not as though the inhabitants had abandoned it willingly, but as something evil had driven them from it. The men began to get restless, shifting about, turning to keep their backs away from the unsettling darkness in each of the buildings.
“Captain Steed.”
A Knight stepped to his commander’s side. A battle horn hung at his side. A visible relief ran through the silent battalion at the sound of their leader. Mufaun's voice was calm, soothing in its confidence. And suddenly, everything was business as usual.
“Yes, my lord.” Steed was a man larger than most, partly because of the Orrish blood that ran through his veins, but mostly just because he was. The Orres were a fiercely loyal people. And Steed served only one master.
“Have your scouts scour the village. I want to know where the villagers have gone, then have them gather what supplies they can.”
“They’re already hard at it, my lord.”
Steed was Mufaun’s only friend. There were no secrets between them. Not one. And it made Steed all the more fiercely loyal to his commander. Mufaun was counting on Steed, not only as a friend but as a soldier as well. Even if they made it through the day, by nightfall, there would be few who would stand with them, not for lack of loyalty, but for fear of the Emperor. He couldn’t expect his soldiers to follow him to an end that surely lead to nothing more than a cold soulless tomb. Many of them had homes, wives, children. He didn’t. Steed didn’t. And the four other captains who had sworn fealty to Mufaun, had little they feared to lose when, if they succeeded in their endeavor, what they might gain was beyond their wildest dreams.
The soldiers began to relax. They were all familiar with how Mufaun set about securing a city of any size. He was thorough, ordered, and well-practiced at taking control of a strange new land, be it city or wilderness. He’d been taught well, and his men trusted him above all other commanders. All they had to do for the moment was wait for the scouts to report in. Once the reports were in, the real work would begin.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Chapter Two
Oakhaven was a quiet town that had existed in this lush valley of giant, leafy oaks for hundreds of years. Its size grew very little. Its people were of the best kind. Although most were quiet, hard-working farmers of all varieties, the town had an ancient histroy seldom talked of outside the village lodgehouse.
The children of Oakhaven had always been its legacy. In the three hundred years of the town's history, two thousand of the young ones had served in the Emperor's Royal Guard during times of conflict. Not one had ever been last in combat. Not one had ever been wounded. They always came home.
Oakhaven was, without question, the single greatest fighting force Eros-Sur had never discovered. And despite the many years of service its residents had given during the Emipre's times of conflict, once the conflict was over, Oakhaven became the quiet farm community no one ever gave a second thought to.
To the residents of Oakhaven, the answer to this peculiar existence was all but self-evident. Within their own numbers was an ancient soul that had existed since perhaps the beginning of time.
She'd had many names, more than even the town historians could even remember, but to this generation of Oakhaven residents, she was known as Julianna.
As Seer, Prophet, and Revelator, Julianna was the very heart of the community, their guide in all things spiritual, the guardian of their souls. The farmland in Oakhaven produced only the finest crops, enough to sustain its people in any season, be there drought or famine, Oakhaven never wanted. And whatever stock or produce was taken to market always faired better than any other. The people of Oakhaven were not blind to their good fortune. They knew they were a blessed and fortunate people, so it was no miracle to them that their God had raised and hidden an army of the finest soldiers within the city to protect His vessel.
So, when Mufaun appeared before the Elders of Oakhaven, alone on the night of their arrival in the valley, with a plan to protect and preserve their secret, he had been surprised to see smiles on so many of the faces gathered for the meeting. It seemed there was no fear from the army gathering just a short distance from the village. It was Julianna who had asked to hear Mufaun's plan, despite an uproar of protest from the Elders. And though Mufaun had stood solemn, listening intently to the debate, he could not believe this people actually believed they had the means to thwart his battalion of soldiers which would shortly be joined by the Grand Marshall's own host of brutal warriors. Yet, it was the desire of Julianna that won out and Mufaun laid his plan before them. When he was done, there was no discussion. Julianna stood, her eyes intent on Mufaun, and quietly gave him her blessing, saying "Although you have surely brought war to our humble land, you, Roz Mufaun, son of Haim Mufaun, whose grandfather was once counted a friend among our number, will be the leader of our leaderless army. Your heart is pure, your mind sound, and your soul is not unlike your great-grandfather who once served me as an Elder in this village so long ago. Make your plan, but choose your captains well for though your heart and mind are strong, your faith in this, your decision, will be tested as it has never been tested before."
Mufaun watched Julianna leave the meeting hall under the quiet, watchful gaze of the Elders and chosen men of the meeting. She was intoxicating of spirit. Never had his soul been moved in the presence of anything or anyone, like it had been touched by this woman. Surely she was a vessel of the living God whom he had sought to serve his whole life.
There had been little to do to prepare the village for what was to come. Their resolve was unique. Their path had been chosen and they walked it without question. Mufaun had left after only a few short hours with the villagers, returning to his camp where he chose the five Knight Captains who had been loyal to him for as long as he had been a soldier.
The children of Oakhaven had always been its legacy. In the three hundred years of the town's history, two thousand of the young ones had served in the Emperor's Royal Guard during times of conflict. Not one had ever been last in combat. Not one had ever been wounded. They always came home.
Oakhaven was, without question, the single greatest fighting force Eros-Sur had never discovered. And despite the many years of service its residents had given during the Emipre's times of conflict, once the conflict was over, Oakhaven became the quiet farm community no one ever gave a second thought to.
To the residents of Oakhaven, the answer to this peculiar existence was all but self-evident. Within their own numbers was an ancient soul that had existed since perhaps the beginning of time.
She'd had many names, more than even the town historians could even remember, but to this generation of Oakhaven residents, she was known as Julianna.
As Seer, Prophet, and Revelator, Julianna was the very heart of the community, their guide in all things spiritual, the guardian of their souls. The farmland in Oakhaven produced only the finest crops, enough to sustain its people in any season, be there drought or famine, Oakhaven never wanted. And whatever stock or produce was taken to market always faired better than any other. The people of Oakhaven were not blind to their good fortune. They knew they were a blessed and fortunate people, so it was no miracle to them that their God had raised and hidden an army of the finest soldiers within the city to protect His vessel.
So, when Mufaun appeared before the Elders of Oakhaven, alone on the night of their arrival in the valley, with a plan to protect and preserve their secret, he had been surprised to see smiles on so many of the faces gathered for the meeting. It seemed there was no fear from the army gathering just a short distance from the village. It was Julianna who had asked to hear Mufaun's plan, despite an uproar of protest from the Elders. And though Mufaun had stood solemn, listening intently to the debate, he could not believe this people actually believed they had the means to thwart his battalion of soldiers which would shortly be joined by the Grand Marshall's own host of brutal warriors. Yet, it was the desire of Julianna that won out and Mufaun laid his plan before them. When he was done, there was no discussion. Julianna stood, her eyes intent on Mufaun, and quietly gave him her blessing, saying "Although you have surely brought war to our humble land, you, Roz Mufaun, son of Haim Mufaun, whose grandfather was once counted a friend among our number, will be the leader of our leaderless army. Your heart is pure, your mind sound, and your soul is not unlike your great-grandfather who once served me as an Elder in this village so long ago. Make your plan, but choose your captains well for though your heart and mind are strong, your faith in this, your decision, will be tested as it has never been tested before."
Mufaun watched Julianna leave the meeting hall under the quiet, watchful gaze of the Elders and chosen men of the meeting. She was intoxicating of spirit. Never had his soul been moved in the presence of anything or anyone, like it had been touched by this woman. Surely she was a vessel of the living God whom he had sought to serve his whole life.
There had been little to do to prepare the village for what was to come. Their resolve was unique. Their path had been chosen and they walked it without question. Mufaun had left after only a few short hours with the villagers, returning to his camp where he chose the five Knight Captains who had been loyal to him for as long as he had been a soldier.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Fallen - Chapter One
Roz Mufaun, Lieutenant Marshall of the Imperial Army, stood at the crest of a small hill dotted with ancient giant oak trees ablaze with the color of autumn. Though it was hidden from view at the moment, in the forest of giant oaks before him, he knew he had finally located the village that sheltered the key to all he had ever dreamed. This village, Oakhaven the old man had called it, harbored a secret Emperor Hotek had spared no expense to locate: a woman who could see the future. The old man had died in the same breath he’d used to utter the name of the village, despite Mufaun’s attempt to save his life. But he’d gotten the name and all it had cost him was a small mug of Orrish ale.
Emperor Hotek had made his commanders a promise not one of them would be able to easily ignore. “The man who brings me this Seer, shall on that day be given the hand of my daughter, Rianna, in marriage, and become the sole heir of this mighty empire.” The hush that had fallen over those present in the royal hall at Durhamfeld on that occasion would never be forgotten. Mufaun did not long for the throne of Eros-Sur, or aspire to such a place of power, nor did he crave the riches of a kingdom. What Mufaun desired, and had since he first gazed upon her, was Rianna.
The promise made by Emperor Hotek had given hope to a cause Mufaun had never hoped to realize. Rianna knew of his secret love for her, and she had given him only one reason not to pursue her: her heart was not hers to give.
“Prepare the assault. Kill any who resist, enslave the rest but bring the woman to me.” The harsh, cruel command snapped Mufaun from his momentary departure from reality and reminded him of the unfortunate circumstance in which he now found himself.
For months, Mufaun had led his small battalion south through Eros-Sur in search of this seer, turning over every rock and unraveling every tale of this mystic woman, following every lead to this point. Yesterday, he was on the verge of the ultimate discovery. This morning, he woke to the face of his only enemy, Grand Marshall Lukus Rohn, as if he should be glad to see him. Fortunately, his scouts had alerted him to the approaching ally host and its commander, giving him just enough time to prepare for his arrival.
The Grand Marshall’s words pierced Mufaun to the core. He was grateful to be standing with his back to the Grand Marshall. The hatred that burned in his eyes would have been impossible to hide. He hated the man. Hated him like no other. And knowing the snake had followed him in secret to arrive now and claim victory, tortured Mufaun in so many ways. He would not let the wickedness of this man become the future of this empire and all of Eros-Sur. And he would never see him stand next to Rianna. Not today. Not ever.
Mufaun knew the punishment for treason well. Punishment was death after excommunication from the faith. Death. Excommunication. What Emperor Hotek promised for anyone convicted of the crime of treason was an end to life on this world and no chance at a life in the next. He’d seen it served out enough times under the rule of Hotek. But what choice did he have. To let Grand Marshall Rohn return to Durhamfeld with the Seer…Mufaun couldn’t bare to think of all that single act would destroy. He simply couldn’t let that happen. But would the cost of his treason be worth it? Even if he triumphed today, how could he best the greatest army to ever walk Eros-Sur? Mufaun didn’t have the answers, not yet. But in this village, Oakhaven, was a woman who might. He had done what he needed to do, whatever the cost might be.
Mufaun drew his helmet over his head, the tail of golden horse’s hair settling on his shoulders. He slipped the mouthpiece of an ornate battle horn between his lips and sounded the attack.
Five horns answered in turn, their crisp, clear notes slicing through the silent fall morning like a hot knife through fresh churned butter. Mufaun knew each of the horns and the Knight Captain sounding the note through it.
Armies are good at destruction. Under the Grand Marshall, they were superb. One more thing Mufaun hated about the man.
Mufaun kissed the silver medallion hanging around his neck, the Flor de Bastion. Given to him by his mother when he was just a boy, fourteen maybe. Fourteen years old. The army picked its soldiers young, easy to train, easy to mold into whatever the army needed them to become. Mufaun had taken to the life with relative ease. He reveled in the strict discipline, excelled at combat, and made every waking moment a quest for perfection until one spring day in the royal gardens when he came face to face with Rianna. She’d asked him about the medallion then, and he’d told her about the ancient Temple of the Knights Bastion and how he hoped to one day restore the knighthood to its once glorious home. He tucked the medallion into his tunic and climbed onto his horse, a powerful black mare that stood tall and proud, a warrior not unlike her master.
Mufaun knew the Grand Marshall would not trouble himself with the details of the raid. Instead, he trusted his lieutenant and ten knight captains to bring him his glory, as they always had in the past. The Grand Marshall would never suspect Mufaun, along with five of his knight captains, capable of any treachery like what was about to befall him. His pride made him weak. Mufaun knew this and took the advantage it gave him.
Emperor Hotek had made his commanders a promise not one of them would be able to easily ignore. “The man who brings me this Seer, shall on that day be given the hand of my daughter, Rianna, in marriage, and become the sole heir of this mighty empire.” The hush that had fallen over those present in the royal hall at Durhamfeld on that occasion would never be forgotten. Mufaun did not long for the throne of Eros-Sur, or aspire to such a place of power, nor did he crave the riches of a kingdom. What Mufaun desired, and had since he first gazed upon her, was Rianna.
The promise made by Emperor Hotek had given hope to a cause Mufaun had never hoped to realize. Rianna knew of his secret love for her, and she had given him only one reason not to pursue her: her heart was not hers to give.
“Prepare the assault. Kill any who resist, enslave the rest but bring the woman to me.” The harsh, cruel command snapped Mufaun from his momentary departure from reality and reminded him of the unfortunate circumstance in which he now found himself.
For months, Mufaun had led his small battalion south through Eros-Sur in search of this seer, turning over every rock and unraveling every tale of this mystic woman, following every lead to this point. Yesterday, he was on the verge of the ultimate discovery. This morning, he woke to the face of his only enemy, Grand Marshall Lukus Rohn, as if he should be glad to see him. Fortunately, his scouts had alerted him to the approaching ally host and its commander, giving him just enough time to prepare for his arrival.
The Grand Marshall’s words pierced Mufaun to the core. He was grateful to be standing with his back to the Grand Marshall. The hatred that burned in his eyes would have been impossible to hide. He hated the man. Hated him like no other. And knowing the snake had followed him in secret to arrive now and claim victory, tortured Mufaun in so many ways. He would not let the wickedness of this man become the future of this empire and all of Eros-Sur. And he would never see him stand next to Rianna. Not today. Not ever.
Mufaun knew the punishment for treason well. Punishment was death after excommunication from the faith. Death. Excommunication. What Emperor Hotek promised for anyone convicted of the crime of treason was an end to life on this world and no chance at a life in the next. He’d seen it served out enough times under the rule of Hotek. But what choice did he have. To let Grand Marshall Rohn return to Durhamfeld with the Seer…Mufaun couldn’t bare to think of all that single act would destroy. He simply couldn’t let that happen. But would the cost of his treason be worth it? Even if he triumphed today, how could he best the greatest army to ever walk Eros-Sur? Mufaun didn’t have the answers, not yet. But in this village, Oakhaven, was a woman who might. He had done what he needed to do, whatever the cost might be.
Mufaun drew his helmet over his head, the tail of golden horse’s hair settling on his shoulders. He slipped the mouthpiece of an ornate battle horn between his lips and sounded the attack.
Five horns answered in turn, their crisp, clear notes slicing through the silent fall morning like a hot knife through fresh churned butter. Mufaun knew each of the horns and the Knight Captain sounding the note through it.
Armies are good at destruction. Under the Grand Marshall, they were superb. One more thing Mufaun hated about the man.
Mufaun kissed the silver medallion hanging around his neck, the Flor de Bastion. Given to him by his mother when he was just a boy, fourteen maybe. Fourteen years old. The army picked its soldiers young, easy to train, easy to mold into whatever the army needed them to become. Mufaun had taken to the life with relative ease. He reveled in the strict discipline, excelled at combat, and made every waking moment a quest for perfection until one spring day in the royal gardens when he came face to face with Rianna. She’d asked him about the medallion then, and he’d told her about the ancient Temple of the Knights Bastion and how he hoped to one day restore the knighthood to its once glorious home. He tucked the medallion into his tunic and climbed onto his horse, a powerful black mare that stood tall and proud, a warrior not unlike her master.
Mufaun knew the Grand Marshall would not trouble himself with the details of the raid. Instead, he trusted his lieutenant and ten knight captains to bring him his glory, as they always had in the past. The Grand Marshall would never suspect Mufaun, along with five of his knight captains, capable of any treachery like what was about to befall him. His pride made him weak. Mufaun knew this and took the advantage it gave him.
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