Tales of a young man - Depheant Makepeace

[lum]

* * * Prologue * * *

Inside the tomb it was as cold and quiet as a mauseleum. Depheant looked around as the party of fighters slowly followed him, one by one trickling in after a long passage through a narrow corridor. There had been an impenetrable chilling blackness when the Brotherhood knight entered the place as second, right behind the redhead Tamsin encased in black leather. Emma and Blaine had been behind him and only one more time the man had muttered words of disapproval about bringing such a young child with them on this mission. A quick fierce glance from Tamsin however had silenced the man. And after all, Emma had proven useful, her little hands being the only ones small enough to reach for that switch hidden in the rock wall. Thanks to a child the party had been able to resume their mission.

Underfoot loose stones shifted, twisting their ankles in random unpredictable directions and in spite of the magical light the knight had created, none of them was able to perceive other walls but the one from which more fighters were still emerging.
They moved carefully and in silence, especially after a few hours earlier have come across the place where Pheobe and her party had been butchered. Back there they had stopped a moment and held a small ceremony for the fallen. It had proven one of the most difficult moments in Depheant's life as well as in Emma’s. But he, the child and the others had to recover quickly as the mission required an ending.

While they were searching the enormous place, a few tracing the wall behind them and some others standing guard, Emma -who had become one with the shadows and scouted a bit just outside the circle of the light cast by Depheant-, totally escaped their attention. Well… until…

Depheant turned his head as his superb hearing picked up the sound of metal scratching and being lifted from stone. In horror he had to witness how the girl -who considered him as a sort of father- picked up a helmet from the floor.

“Emma! Nooo!!!”

Depheant was fast, with Tamsin being even faster. Heads turned as the two adults leaped over to the girl who looked up startled and dropped the helmet from her hands.
The moment the metal object with a loud clang crushed onto the floor, a flash of the whitest light erupted from it, searing into the eyes of those who had looked in the direction of the child. There was also a side effect to it, something which had their muscles freezing in place yet filling them with such a pressure as they all wanted to run but simply couldn’t. For a moment it was as if the world stopped and they had just become statues unable to perform any actions.

And then suddenly the light vanished just as fast as it had been appeared. It took a bit before the first people regained their vision. Blaine being one of the first was also the first who noticed some people were missing,... Depheant and the child being among them...

---


Depheant wanted to shout. But he failed. It was if a gust of wind blew him in a storm-tossed sea and his sky became overshadowed with an unseen blackness as waves devoured their quarry greedily. He was sucked down in this pool of whatever it was, darkness pushing down on his body from all sides. He struggled, disorientated as he was and fought to get back to the surface from where he was being ripped away. But there was just no leverage to be found and the dark substance simply engulfed him. In the end he could not else but to give into and let the persisting phenomenon take him...


---

One month later a letter arrived at a palace...

Your Eminence,

With considerable sorrow and a very heavy heart, I, Zan Hajama, in service of the Lorebringer, wish to inform You about the disappearing of one of Your Knights.
After having served Your cause in an outstanding way, and having contributed to more than one mission important to our hearts, I wish to inform You that the Knight-Aspirant known as Depheant Makepeace has gone missing in action during his latest quest in the western desert.
His disappearance along with a few others has been carefully investigated, and much to our regret this investigation has proven unsuccessful. We do not exclude anything, but after more than one scrying attempt it is as if he and a few others have ceased to exist.

A more detailed report in regard to this mysterious disappearance will follow as soon as our brothers and sisters have returned.

Signed

Zan Hajama
First Scout

[lum]

Light...

H... hello...?

Depheant opened his eyes. The knight blinked a few times at the light background as he stretched out his fingers, touching and sensing something that reminded him of his own often messed up hair. He turned his head, and blue-green unkempt grass met his eyes, rustling and moving in a gentle breeze. That bluish tinge the grass had was something he associated with seasides. His fingers clutched at a few grass stalks and it appeared they were coarse and tough. His consciousness slowly restored as his other senses started to pick up things as well. The air he inhaled had this salty, seaweed smell, and in the distance he overheard the rhythm of calm waves crashing against rock.

More and more details started to seep in. Sensing the moist green blades between his fingers and his damp shirt were an indication it was somewhere around dawn. He turned his gaze slowly back up and noticed birds flying and gliding in a bright, clear, blue summer sky. The seagulls seemed to squawk and screech constantly even as the flock diminished in the distance. He winced as he pushed himself into sitting position, his body feeling as if he had been keelhauled a couple of times. Whatever happened, it was something he had survived.

He rubbed his hair and looked around. It was as if awakening after a dream, his brain transferring faint flashes of memories in his mind. People, places, events... lovers...

In the distance he perceived something that looked like coastal sand dunes on a rocky coast with here and there a touch of vegetation. The smell of sea salt was now full on his face, and an ocean stretched out behind those rocks like a darkblue blanket, alive and moving, rolling and folding over itself majestically. Slowly he rose to his feet and immediately sensed how the sun shone warm upon his neck and damp clothes.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Wait a moment… he hadn’ been alone, right? There were others, others with whom he had been in that ancient place. Gods! Who was he missing?! He couldn't remember. Then, when the knight turned around, his mouth fell open, literally, with what he saw...

[lum]

Alien...

Depheant was getting desperate, his hair veering too far in either direction and it wasn't even noon yet.

The city he earlier explored had shown a lot of similarities with cities he had been in before, but he didn't recognize any of the buildings nor the nearby coast line. The people around here didn't understand a word of what he said, and their language was unlike anything he has ever heard before. He was alone in an alien world, unable to express his most desperate feelings. He wanted to find other people he knew, things he recognized, and more than anything he wanted to go home. He also noticed as hours and days passed, he remembered less and less... and less about his life before this event. It was very frightening, unknowing where this would end. It was hard to remain calm and although he had managed so far, his next discovery would have him break and weep like a child who just lost his parents in death.

Outside the city gates, out of people's sight the knight had dropped to his knees, the sight of a large wrinkled map open in front of him making him feel as if all the warmth of his body had just seeped out of him into the very earth below, leaving behind a cold empty husk. The physical pain when his loss fully dawned on him by staring at it... too much to bare. He didn't recognize any of the land or coastlines on the map! A boiling fury welled up in him and he screamed at the sky, shaking his fists before falling on top of the map, tears covering his handsome tanned face which he buried in his hands. The overwhelming grief washing over him wave after black wave, crushed the young bardic knight until he could hardly breathe. His heart bled when he whispered a name, a name he had great difficulty with in allowing it to pass through his lips... as if the best part ever in his entire life just got savagely ripped out of him.

...
..
.

Tendays passed...
.
..
...

Starlight blinked through the leaves that roofed the edge of the creek. A soft murmuring that had been drifting over from a nearby stream pouring itself into the blackish water of the pool, was suddenly drowned out by a melody rising up from strings that were playfully pulled. There was no wind disturbing the long grass nearby, nor the bare yellow branches overhead of willows that spread expansively around the open spot. Blond hair was falling unkempt over his brown eyes, and he briefly bit his lower lip that was curved as if in pain before words finally yet slowly started to tumble from his lips.

They were flowing and beautiful, but to the ones listening completely incomprehensible. Nevertheless... he only had barely disturbed the air with a few strummed chords... or soft conversations all around him fell quiet, heads turning in his direction. Not that he noticed. The bard in middle of the circle continued with such ravishing skill, that little by little his spectators failed to resist the melancholy tide that seemed to have submerged this mysterious, foreign artist. He made those strings languish under his fingers in a way that was so universal... and at the same time so typical to him.

He played them with gentle force, and people watched him, frozen in their doings. They didn’t understand any of the words he pronounced, so maybe it was then because of the familiarity of the way how he used his voice. They were all experiencing the rare gift he had of stirring powerful emotions in many through music. The swelling song he delivered to his audience with fingers that played the lute so carelessly... clearly stole many hearts.

It was only when the music faded that he restored the spirit and the senses to the people and the place from which he had stolen them. But not without leaving a few tears of astonishment that had sprung up to the eyes of the ladies present, sitting motionless looking at him with slightly parted and dry lips. Only he didn’t see them for he could only see someone else in his mind. Someone... of whom the memory was becoming less clear and vivid as well...

Seemingly looking lost in thoughts, the strange yet talented foreign bard rubbed his hair... messing it all up...

[lum]

Like a nomad...

He had found himself only welcome in this caravan because these people seemed truly an outcast group. Foreigners, strangers… just like him, sort of. Now, it may be a stereotypical perception but though they were similar to him, all human with the normal human behaviour, they seemed different at the same time...

Their skin color ranged from olive white to very dark, their hair mostly black but there were a few reds and blonds to be spotted among them as well. In their daily life style they made no attempts to conceal their roots or who they were. Or... as if those gaudily painted wagons pulled by an extraordinary variety of horse breeds was a demonstration of their very colorful, multicultural existence.

A beautiful dark haired gypsy with a cream colored skin and lips as full as only dreams can invent, had been watching over him... and taking ‘care’ of him. With that, she had probably taken interest in him as well. Attempts to get an intelligible conversation going haven’t had the desired effect yet. Especially not to her as far as he could tell. But just like it was with his music, some things were just universal and it was all too clear she was up for some romancing. He knew her name, she his. Thus far that was it. And she even pronounced it with this strange, unique accent, like as if his name were a tongue twister.

Thus their communication was limited to a range of simple hand gestures which -granted- had grown spontaneous over the weeks. A lot of their activities and actions were similar to the ones he knew. Cooking, taking care of the animals, blacksmithing, washing clothes, hunting the lands. It was all similar and therefore easily done. Him not just sitting back in resignation because of his own situation made that he could count on a lot of their sympathy, especially from the one named Zinara. But their rituals, the gods they seemed to worship, and the to him confusing way of communicating and rules about it, told him he had ended up in a very, very strange place. It all felt like he would need a decade or more to adapt.


After handing over the lute to the old man from whom he had borrowed it, he noticed Zinara moving behind him, ready to escort him to his tent. And to make sure when there was anything he required... she could see to it that he received it, he thought. When he looked up he blushed nearly scarlet under those admiring and longing looks cast from all sides of the circle of women, and he quickly rose to his feet, dusting off the grass from his pants. Zinara, her face warm gold in the light of the campfire, smiled beautifully and motioned him to follow, the sway in her hips making him aware of the roundness of her thighs.

He groaned under his breath. How could he ever make it clear to her that this wasn’t going to work... ?

[lum]

Too dark...

Several weeks later he found himself parting ways with the gypsies, and with that, with the ‘accommodating’ Zinara as well. The moment it had dawned on her that he wanted to leave the caravan, she had been all over him, including at night. But he refused her company even after she had revealed a very... very wishful body to him. Frankly, he felt sorry for her, but there was only one face he could think of right now. And even though he now months later had come to the conclusion he may never ever see -her- again for the rest of his life, he wouldn’t give up on his feelings for they have kept him going so far. The very thought of her had been the incentive for trying to find a way home. He was convinced that these feelings he had for her wouldn’t end until the moment his body ceased to function and his soul would return to whatever comes after in this strange world. For that was what it was.

At least he hoped so, as if noticed he was losing more of his memories. Her name... what was her name again...?

After studying dozens of maps he could only come to the conclusion that he was further away from home than he had wanted to accept at first. Even though it had been the stars and constellations overhead that convinced him from night one -and reminding him all the nights after- nothing stopped him from searching for proof to demonstrate his first hypothesis was wrong. So far no luck though. During the nights, which he now called his ‘dark moments’, he could sense his love for her riding underneath it all. The very thought of her was like solid ground steadying him. But not too long. During the moments he looked up at the night sky, he allowed a tiny inner door to open only to savor those old feelings of joy and passion, of love and happiness that had made him feel so strong, making him tingle right down to his bones. But it was like he was feeding both inner angels as well as demons.

Depheant tugged at his cloak when he turned to the city’s twinkling lights before him. Either he had been hallunicating or he was really being watched. He glanced over his shoulder. As he peered into the darkness he tried to shake off the thought of a leering presence of some sort entity that made the hair on his neck stand up tall. It was also a strangely familiar feeling, one he had experienced for the first time back home, during the night when a blade disappeared from his quarters. He had blamed his mind playing tricks on him, yet the weapon was never found. Stolen, probably, so he assumed. His heartbeat quickened when he recalled that the news of another death had reached him days after. Someone he had loved and cared for. Coincidence? He shook his head to himself and sighed. Skin with the smoothest texture, in the moonlight so pale that it was practically transparent. He shook his head once more to himself. She was gone. And this night was just getting too bloody dark.

When his brain told him once more he was being watched in a barely perceptible way, he turned his head to check. And when he said ‘hello’, no answer came but a cold breeze swirling around his head... playing with his hair...

[lum]

Please be here...

He frowned as he moved his thumbs and forefingers, his facial expressions shifting just as rapidly as his hands created other shapes in the air between him and the girl behind the bar.

The blonde batted her long, dark eyelashes at him when she created a reply using her own digits... and added something on top of that as she wettened her lips with the tip of her tongue.

It didn’t take any knowledge of the sign language he had been taught by the gypsies to ‘draw’ his reply. With a wave of his hands he expressed his thoughts, telling her it was no use. Then, he shook his head once as if to underline that and grabbed the key from the counter.

The girl snickered as she caught the increasing redness on Depheant's cheeks.


Her name was Violet, and more than that he didn’t want to learn about her now. Tiredly he climbed the stairs and unlocked the door of what would be his room for a while. It was on the third floor and he kinda had taken it cause it was cheap -as not many liked the flight-, and Violet had promised him a very nice view. He plopped down on the elevated porch and rubbed his hair as he glanced over his shoulder at the door. Coming to think of it, she probably had meant something entirely different with said ‘view’.

He popped the cork from the bottle he was holding, poured a little of it into a round glass and then looked from the glass to the bottle. He shrugged, placed the glass next to him, and then just drank straight from the bottle. Lowering it from his mouth and wiping his chin with the back of his hand, he mumbled.

“Things just couldn’t get more horrible I guess. The only person I can understand here is myself, and -only-... when I’m talking to myself, out LOUD!” With a sigh of frustration he placed the bottle against his lips and took another swig. “You really had to go out there and be the hero, didn’t you? While you likely had all those nice things at home. Gods, Deph. Today really must be the day you are the least proud of who you have become. You are failing as the knight you feel you could be, and there is no hope to win back on whatever it was you had. You’re just piling failure on top of failure, and you are heartbroken as well. Over a girl whoms name you barely remember now. Just as if to make matters worse, now you are also starting to reget things that felt wrong as well as things that felt amazingly good?”

Slowly he became aware of how slurred his speech had sounded and he gazed at the bottle in his tanned hand. No wonder. This hadn’t been the first one today. The young man shrugged and took another swig before he swung to his side and, using the wall as a brace, he clambered to his feet. He made his way to the bed, his movements uncoordinated, his body clearly struggling to maintain balance. Like as if his legs were listening to series of commands -not- given by his own brain but rather by instinct. Left and right it goes until he finally bumped with the bed and flipped over on the mattress . To his mind however it was as if he jumped headlong into darkness.

His fingers started to trace the pillow next to him.

'She'... was here… and 'they'... were not here but instead they were there, in warm wet sand with moonlight pouring onto that amazing skin of hers. They were together again in that moment, looking into each other’s eyes while waves of a gentle kind filled holes in beach sand surrounding their form. He was just in time to see how a breeze tousled her hair, and how a few strands were being blown forward over her forehead and down her eyes... right before her lips captured his.

Depheant groaned and rolled from his belly to his side.

She was here… oohh yes… she most definitely was… here…

[lum]

Months later…

The hardness of his elbow rammed his opponent with considerable force in the upper stomach. Then, his upper arm swung upwards and the back of his balled fist connected brutally with the man’s nose, breaking it with a nauseating sound, and knocking the man backwards with a shriek of surprise and pain. The crowd all around in the outdoor arena gave an uproar of approval while a judge walked around the circle, inspecting both fighters with a careful eye.

His opponent landed on his back in a cloud of dust and as the blond man moved over him, he held up his hand as if to fend off both the light of the burning sun and the next series of blows. Bloodshot eyes stared up with a look of awe and anxiety at the defeater, and the man on the ground shook his head once, indicating he had enough.

The blond man nodded and grabbed him by his wrist, helping him back on his feet. This was getting rather standard, a routine he had been doing and experiencing in the past few tendays. The crowd erupted in cheers, chanting the name of the victor who offered them a faint smile and a light wave of his hand. A voice sounded from the elevated tribune and he turned his eyes to his benefactor.

Black Garius was the man he was working for now, and though he still couldn’t have a decent conversation with any of the people he had come across, he somehow had managed to hook up with this group of mercenaries who also offered their experience to the public in the shape of demonstrations like the one today. On the surface the blond bard oozed pure confidence, and with the way how that huge blade rested on his shoulder also sex appeal.

It was partially a facade he had managed to built up between himself and everyone else as there really wasn’t anyone around who could help him with his true problems. He had found his life much easier this way than having to deal with dozens of questions in a language he still failed to understand. That didn’t mean he was giving up on it. Not at all, as joining these mercenaries was only a step. Right now he made a lot of coin and acquired the gear he would need for his search.

He stood there silently while his master praised the display of skill. From under his sandy blond -now somewhat tangled hair-, he let his eyes briefly roam over the crowd, and that is when another memory struck him. He saw her… standing there amidst those people. And she was smiling at him like on the day of his Trial of Prowess. He smiled faintly back at ‘her’, his heart pounding rapidly when he saw her in his mind’s eye descending towards the arena floor. An anxious, but also at the same time warm feeling invaded his body as he imagined her hands creeping up his chest, her fingers resting on his shoulders. It made his stomach muscles clench with a crazy feeling.

The clapping of the crowd had him snapping out of his daydream, and with a nod he advanced to the tribune in order to claim his reward of the day...

...

[lum]

... Sometimes you win, sometimes you learn.

Almost all his duels had been going alright. Almost. But every now and then one simply bites off more than one can chew on.

He frowned slightly upon his next opponent as it was a lithe young woman with a body that seemed more suited for dancing or even for acrobatics perhaps. She wore a mask that covered her nose and mouth, and her dark clothes seemed a midway between a dancing outfit and some sort of exotic, sleek, wrap belted fighting tunic. She was holding something that looked like a blackish walking stick lightly and horizontally in both her hands, and her attention was on the steelbarred gate in front of them.

As the Ringmaster announced the next fight to the audience on the tribune, he gazed at her for a moment, and there was something playful behind the blue eyes of this dark haired woman as she tilted her head back to meet his gaze. Her fingers moved lightning fast but Depheant was able to keep up with the sign language as it thus far seemed the only language he was succesful with.

Not too late yet if you want make a bet. I say three against one I beat you. So you make profit out of your loss. She winked at him.

Depheant blinked. “E-excuse me... milady?”

But the girl only frowned at his reaction as she obviously didn’t understand a word of what he had just blurted. Depheant then shook his head and moved his own digits in response.

What makes you so sure that I won’t lose my money if I did so? He smirked a bit.

She shrugged. Suit yourself. Don’t blame me after.


Depheant rubbed his hair and glanced once more at her appearance and then at his large blade the servant standing right of him was holding out to him. It was nearly as long as the girl was tall and it almost seemed too cruel to use in this fight.


In his mind’s eye he saw -her- for a moment again. At the time where he first had refused to duel with her, afraid that he might hurt her too greatly. Just outside a large city she had kicked his butt for that… literally. Luckily for him that moment had taken place -before-others arrived at that embarrassing scene... otherwise he probably wouldn’t have been a knight for much longer. A knight... he has been a knight, that much he could remember. And -she- had been proud at him. He smiled weakly and let out a sigh, quickly stowing away his nagging feelings.

No, he would fight this girl, but…

The blond bard shook his head, gesturing the servant to grab the much smaller scimitar and a light shield instead. As he accepted those he missed out on the girl’s reaction behind his back. Or... how she rolled her eyes.

Amidst the sound of creaking wood and the rattle of chains of the gate finally being lifted, the cheers of the anxious crowds drowning out those grinding sounds as the pair approached the gate way. The scent of fresh sawdust and blood shot up his nose fairly strong as the previous duel had ended in a small bloodbath. He motioned to her with his sign language.
After you…

Thank you, was all she signed with her fingers before she entered the arena, with a rather confidently sway. He came a little bit behind her, observing how she walked with an elegant stride towards the middle of the circle. Then, he noticed how the crowd wasn’t just chanting his name, but also hers.

“SAVANAH - SAVANAH - SAVANAH !!!”

Perhaps if he had been able to understand a word of these people’s language, and thus learning anything from the announcements earlier made, he may have had a rough idea of what was lying ahead.
But he didn’t…

He wasn’t stupid either and he understood this was going to be unlike the classic duels he had been into. She was obviously something special and he was on his guard, only he had no idea what to expect.


Both fighters offered the Ringmaster a nod, and then... the signal was given.

That ‘walking stick’ started to spin with the swift movement of the girl’s seemingly nimble fingers and Depheant was so focused on her weapon that he didn’t see her first move coming. It all happened like as if he were only able to move after stepping into one of those slow-traps.

Suddenly she rotated fast around her longitudinal axis on one foot, using the tip of her other foot and her staff to throw up a curtain of sand, like as if she were a massive whirlwind. The cloud of dust she created… or had become... wafted towards him. Depheant looked in surprise how her form dissolved in the cloud of beige dust, and at the sight of this his mind warped him back to a sudden memory in a desert where assassins of a cult had jumped upon him. There, the concealing sand cloud his horse had created saved him and he managed to kill the last one.
No, that wasn’t right. At least not entirely. If it hadn’t been for... someone, he would have been dead either by the poison they had used, or dehydration. The woman was the one who truly had saved him. Her name... what was her name again...?

Ph...

Dark bark connecting with the side of his arm elicited a cry of acute pain. To the spectators his eyes registered surprise. Surprise of how much pain she could cause with that stick as well as the suddenness and swiftness of her blow. It was if she had materialized in front of him when she struck him. Her eyes were gleaming with fond mockery as she stood there for a moment, signing with her fingers while her staff rotated in her other hand, the graceful, artistic spinning creating a hypnotic effect.

What’s up? You are not paying attention.

He muttered a cry of pain as he rubbed his sword arm and almost wasn’t fast enough to fend off her next attack.

Her blows were just as efficient as the cloud of dust she had produced. The blond foreign bard realized that she probably would have dispatched him already if he hadn’t started training again a month ago. He whirled though as she attacked him seemingly from all sides at once, his mouth agape with surprise. This wasn’t a regular fight at all and he had no idea where to raise his shield first. She wasn’t just fast, she was like wind racing around his form.

And it didn’t stop there...

Afterwards he probably would realize she was trained to be this quick because it would be too exhausting for someone like her to keep up a fight against a warrior like him.

As she ‘danced’ around him, toying with him and making him look like he were some stationary practice dummy, she quickly disarmed him with a rapid rotation of the staff’s end around his sword arm the moment he swung his blade in a downward arc for her leg. She made it look like it had been a rather pathetic attempt to strike her. Next thing he knew, the girl performed a circle kick, her foot picking up some dust along that landed in his eyes half a second before she nailed the tip of her boot under his chin in beautifully executed high kick. This time it was his turn to go down. He landed so hard on his back that the air rasped his lungs as he heaved for breath.

One could hear how the audience held their breath right before the burst of applause.

Depheant lifted his head some. First he could see only shadows, but his vision restored itself quickly. The girl was looking down upon him. She had pulled her mask down and smiled a wolvish grin as her fingers moved.
You can’t say I didn’t warn you.

So... that’s why the mask…, he signed back as he coughed, his hands reaching for his throat that felt like it had been sand blasted.

She smirked while offering her hand to help him up, and before he knew it... he stood shoulder to shoulder with her facing the cheering crowd. Both warriors waved and left the arena, the courteous bard-knight letting the female victor walk through the gate as first.

This time he didn’t rub his hair though… since he was far... far too busy rubbing his chin...

[lum]

...Valiant, chivalrous, honorable, loyalty... knight...

One month later...

Depheant looked out over the valley on his left, at where the luscious green grass had been replaced and overrun by a sea of polished armor and unsheathed weapons glistening in the light of the setting sun. Gold, white and blue swallow-tailed pennants -embellishing practically every lance and spear- snapped in the wind as the breeze overhead grew stronger. All the way -from the east to the west side of the mountain flank- riders had been lining up for what would be the main clash. Behind them, legions of soldiers supplemented with recruited civilians marching in phalanx, moved into position. They would form the last line of defence against the unholy invaders raised by forbidden magic.

He squinted at the other side of the valley, now shrouded in a dark cloud that oozed an aura of malice. It felt as if these lands were about to face their coming doom. Everyone in the hastily raised army could sense it, cutthroats and paladins alike. Even the shoulders of his war-steed shivered. “Steady… steady…” he murmured, gently patting the flank as he calmed down the animal.
All eyes constantly drifted between the smaller wispy clouds that like tendrils of black smoke floated daintily back and forth,... and the standard bearers at the front, the ones who would raise their flags to initiate the attack.

The ones in the middle forming the vanguard all wore full armor and white cloaks emblazoned with a rising sun, and they had a bright sixpointed sun on their chest glinting in the light, all as symbols of a new day. He glanced at the woman on the horse next to him, the only person he thus far had been able to communicate rather well with, even if that had been merely with hand signs. Savanah had explained him those magnificent riders were knights of dawn, something like the bringers of light in the lands, whose prayers to the god of ‘New Life’ consisted of birth, vitality and renewal among a few other things.

They were flanked by knights with blue shields, wearing tabards of white linen emblazoned in blue with the symbol of a balanced scale placed upon the head of a massive warhammer. Their eyes peered at the scene in front of them through narrow slits in very menacing visages. From what he understood they were the knights which represented the god of ‘justice and revenge’, and they seemed primarily concerned with the punishment of those doing wrong. On the right, and closer to him was another main unit of which the riders featured the symbol of a gauntlet held upright. According to Savanah they represented the god of ‘duty and loyalty’.

Together those would be the shock troops, delivering crucial blows to the enemy force while a cluster of ballistas and catapults would provide missile support for these mounted troops. Archers and sharpshooters wouldn’t be useful anyways and they only had found a handful of adventurers who were lurking here and there between the rocks with epic longbows, slings and crossbows.


Depheant looked over at the other side of the valley where the landscape was still shrouded in a murky darkness, its dimensions expanding by the minute. He… and everyone else here could sense the power building up within, and when a sudden discharge of electricity from the cloud had everyone step back, the energy hissing and crackling in the air between them, he could hear the army murmuring.

He still didn’t understand a word of what these people were saying but this time he could pretty much guess. What were they waiting for, why didn’t they attack before it was too late? It was only logical. As long as you had no true sight on what you exactly would be attacking, it was better to hold. But what if ‘it’ was indeed growing more powerful as they waited? What if this darkness would grow and grow until this entire world was deprived of light?

And then came the answer. There was a shimmering disturbance in the cloud, pretty much like heatwaves rising up from a roof on a hot summer day. Shapes began to emerge at the edge of the cloud, like as ‘things’ that were being put together. The use of foul magic itched more than one's skin and more murmuring rose up from the army's ranks. The shapes were amorphous, shifting, changing, gathering ‘material’ from whatever the darkness provided, and eventually flashed to completion with violent purple outbursts of raw energy. Before them stood an army of assembled parts … parts of long deceased life forms.

Depheant arched a brow as this was the greatest resurrection he ever had witnessed, the sight of what was being summoned enough to make the average person’s teeth shatter. A shimmering crowd of Undead pulsed on the opposite mountain’s flank, their distorted shapes screaming, their numbers so great that the shock of the sight stole his breath for a moment.

Just below them, officers barked out orders the moment this dark sea of bodies came running down the mountain, speeding up rapidly and swarming out towards their flanks. Catapults and ballistas discharged boulders and enermous javelins, the impact causing bones to shatter and rotten flesh crushed. But it was insufficient to stop the huge advancing surge of undead bodies.

Goosebumps rose on his arms when the standard bearers raised their flags. The knights, loyal to their cause, seemingly unfrightened began their charge. Huge armored horses leaped forward with manes and tails streaming. The animals tossed their heads proudly as if they were conscious of the power of their hoofs which caused the earth floor to tremble. Lance tips glistened as they were dipped, those lengthy weapons being readied to cut deeply into the thick ranks of undead.

The mercenary group Depheant was with, started to move as well, forming with other groups the second wave with shorter and mostly blunt weapons. Savanah carried her staff while he drew his large blade. As they rode forward he witnessed how the gallant army of knights closed in on the Undead. For a moment the skeletons and zombies looked so helpless and defenceless, their appearance so unlike these mighty armored riders which now rammed frontally into the swarming mass of corpses at top cat speed.

With lion courage, banner after banner, rank after rank, lance after glittering lance sank deep into the army of the dark, striking the unholy enemy like a thunder hammer with all its might. Lances punctured the enemy, the first sounds of wooden poles and bones snapping was so powerful that Depheant could feel it in his own body. He trembled lightly at this seemingly ceaseless crash of splintering wood and metal cutting upon bones…

He was baffled all the more to see that the Undead force just seemed to choke it up and poured in their nummers to harass the brave knights from behind. It had worked… at least in a way. The Undead on the flanks turned around to hurl themselves upon the riders who still were cutting a nice lane towards the top of the mountain. But any escape for these fantastic steel-clad riders was cut off...

Depheant sat firm in his saddle as they closed in on the scene, and while their own charge perhaps wasn’t as heroic as the knights’s of this world, it was not less important. They were appointed to release the pressure on the knights and that is exactly what he did. His huge blade cut a wide arc in the Undead forces and even if his efforts weren’t enough to even the odds, he would do what he always had dreamt of…

In the middle of the swarming mass he unleashed an inspirational magic that helped him and his allies to surpass their limitations. The Undead screamed in his direction but he could only grin in return as he changed his unit into an even better cavalry. The walking bones and sacks of flesh never retreated, but instead found themselves cut down, their numbers falling like long grass before a merciless scythe.


Meanwhile, on top of the mountain where the cloud slowly had started to dissolve, no one noticed three dark riders… seemingly relaxed awaiting the ‘arrival’ of the knights...

[lum]

...The Blight...

The blond bard shoved his blade deep into a huge zombie’s mouth, probably delivering a fatal blow. Just to make sure he pulled his weapon back and had the tip swipe inwards, striking the unholy thing at the side of its neck, using the built up momentum to exert more force on the flesh and slicing it off in a spray of blood. There was some sort of reflexive shiver going through the walking corpse before its mace -which had smashed several of his squad- dropped harmlessly onto the slippery, trampled earth. The headless body flopped down onto the ground and whilst the head rolled down the mountainside, the grungy discolored hair picking up dirt and tiny stones as it went.

Depheant, turning his horse’s face uphill, blew some hair aside and his eyes danced with glee in the direction at where the battle was the fiercest. It was as if this fight was giving life to his spirit, a weird kind of excitement -which was only slightly tinged with fear- pulsing through his frame. Behind him, a snapped command from Black Garius, the leader of the mercenaries Depheant was part of, called the backup unit into formation again. The blond bard nodded, and as he moved back in line, the mercenaries continued their way up the slope. They ploughed through the ranks of undead like madmen on a horseback, carving themselves a way towards the knights.


At some point Depheant didn’t pay attention anymore to the numerous distorted facial features. He just fought, his silvery blade with sure and intent aim lashing out like the long and pointed tongue of a viper in a gradually growing darkness that had started surrounding them from all sides. With a lightning thrust he pierced a zombie that tried to climb on Savanah’s horse, the thing gasping as cold metal sliced over its ribcage. He jerked his blade back just as Savanah quickly punched its head with the smooth end of her ‘stick’, splitting the skull. Ghastly fingernails scratched harmlessly down the horse’s flank as the boney being slid down and disappeared under trampling hooves.

Thank you, she signed quickly with her fingers and Depheant only nodded once. Then, he turned to look up the hill, trying to peer in the dephts of this dark cloud. They, and the knights were outnumbered and slowly getting surrounded, that was for sure. But several of these undead proved no match for them and Depheant expected they could actually win this. He mumbled a tune that created a gust of wind, and the clouds were tossed apart momentarily. For a moment, everyone fighting around him could see their adversaries more clearly and blows were dealt more efficiently. And that is when he perceived ‘them’... on an adjacent, higher mountain peak. And that is also when he began to question the wisdom of their own tactics...


Three dark riders -holding cruel looking weapons- sat calmy in their saddle, seemingly unperturbed to the enormity of what had unfolded below them and thus far hadn’t involved themselves in the slaughter. They radiated evil in much the same way as the blazing fire of a funeral pyre radiated heat. They were like a beacon to the paladins of this world. It seemed that the knights had noticed them too now as at least fifty riders in two units lowered their lances and made a charge along the length of the rocky trail, their heels digging deep into the flanks of their snorting steeds as they were spurred to gallop. Why, he didn’t know, but his call shuddered through the twilight setting, rising above the sounds of battle even for just a fraction.

“NOOOOOO!!!!”

People all around turned to look in the direction of the foreign bard whose magically enhanced voice had muted out every other sound for a second or so, right before following his gaze uphill. A sudden dread froze the blood in even the bravest of hearts. The dark rider in the middle had slowly started to raise both his arms and his shadow was spreading like a foul stain over the surface of the mountain, swelling horribly in size when the shadows of both other riders joined his. The shadow was unnaturally black and flowed like a stream of molten rock down the mountain in their direction, dark and twisted shapes swirling in its thick inky depths.


The knights, like champions of this realm, noble souls who dedicated their lives to eradicating evil tainting their lands, single-minded and stubbornly continued their charge, ready to do what they were destined to do. Depheant marvelled a moment at these sacred servants willing to demonstrate the power of their gods, adhering to their steel-clad laws of morality and discipline, and ready to bring about a future more brightly than the current one. For a moment he wished he had been with them… wishing he was one of them, becoming a beacon and an example for all those people who were watching. He wished all that even though he knew they rode towards their doom. And it was not because he didn’t have faith in their abilities...

The moment both cavalry units made contact with the shadow stuff oozing from the dark riders, it was like as if they rode off a cliff and fell in the substance, disappearing from sight. Soldiers, mercenaries and friends all around with their faces flecked in blood, reacted in shock. When realizing with horror that fifty of their bravest paladins and other knights had failed in their task, some people on the slope started to run around and run away. More followed when the black ‘nectar’ came down in their direction, and everywhere it touched dead bodies, the expanding oily liquid seemed to solidify in the shape of armored bodies.

Black, ironclad shapes with glowing eyes staring through narrow slits in their direction slowly rose up from the substance. Depheant could hear his heart pounding in his ears, and he sensed pure dread sweeping over him to the point of dizziness. He didn’t hear the piercing screams all around, nor the order to retreat. Instead, he thought about his father, and then about his best friend Zachary. If he died here... in this place… would he see them again? For a moment the blond young man sat there frozen like a statue on his horse, and if it hadn’t been for Savanah freeing him from that sharp, clenching feeling… he probably would have found out about it.
He also would feel the smack of her pole staff against his head for a wee while longer. But later on... he bet he would be eternally grateful to her...