"What's in it for me?"
"Respect, admiration, and the feeling you get from saving a galaxy?"
"Pshaw. I want wine, women and song!"
-Sporff/The Princess
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| Chapters 1 and 2 | | | Author: | | | IP: | ip68-230XXXX | | Date: | 10/15/04 05:10 | | Game Type: | Other | | Labels: | none | | Report Rating: , # of Ratings: 0, Max: , Min:
Lifetime Rating for Keanu_Reaver: 7.9200 | | Collapse
Zacharim's heart pounded wildly in his chest as he tried to focus in on his brother, though unable to distinguish any details of his brothers physique. Jarius maintained his slow, entrancing walk towards his little brother, until finally he stopped, as if stunned, and stared directly at Zacharim. Without warning, Jarius' body crouched ever so slightly and, like a lion going for it's kill, dashed straight at his perplexed brother.
Zacharim choked as his eyes widened, not knowing at all how to react to this situation. Going on fear alone, he let out a shrill yelp and turned tail to run. But no sooner had he whipped his body around to flee then a tree root sticking out of the ground snagged his foot, causing him to violently crash to the ground, face smashing into the leaves with a muffled thud.
His fingers squeezed the soft green leaves and verdant grass as he struggled to fight off the haziness clouding his mind from the fall. He drunkenly rolled over onto his back as his brother stalked behind. His leg hairs stood on end as he felt his brothers presence no more than a few meters from his position. Realizing he had to act quick, he thrust his right hand down to his left hip only to find the soft green cloth of his robe.
I don't have a sword with me! Zacharim thought, realizing the magnitude of the mistake he just made shown clearly as the cold steel of his brothers sword made itself visible in the left corner of his eye. Quickly sitting up, he started scooting away from his brother, looking in vain for anything that resembled a weapon. But once again, the forest floor decieved him as his foot slipped on the dew covered grass, causing him to land roughly on his back. The situation was hopeless, and Zacharim knew it; he clasped his eyes tight, ready to accept the sharp edge of his brother's sword.
"Hey! Stop fooling around! We need to go to the chief's hut!" Jarius said, offering a much appreciated hand to Zacharim.
Zacharim's heart finally began to slow as he gladly grasped his brothers hand and pulled himself up. He looked his brother over intently, but smiled when he saw that familiar warm glow of life in Jarius' eyes. "Oh...I thought..." he started, brushing the leaves and twigs off of his robe.
"Thought what?"
"Oh...nevermind...I'm just very nervous, that's all. But why do we need to go to the chief's hut?" "Some stranger walked in, looked to be human, said he was going to the chief's hut and had urgent news for the chief. Thought it might be a good idea to see what's going on."
"I don't know...I dont feel comfortable without a weapon..."
"Ugh! We don't exactly have all the time in the world! Look, if you're that uncomfortable, you can take my bow, but we gotta go already!"
Jarius stubbornly handed over his bow and his quiver of arrows strapped to his back, then grabbed Zacharim by the arm and hastily started walking to the chief's house. Zacharim stumbled slightly, having to strap the quivers to his back, hold the bow, and try to keep up with his older brothers pace all at the same time. But after just a few steps, he was able to situate the weapons on his body and re-orient himself. He spitefully yanked his arm from his older brother's grip and continued the short walk. Jarius smiled at his younger brother (though Zacharim didn't take notice) before turning his head back to the path and donning the serious expression that usually graced his face.
After just a few more meters, the two were finally able to see the giant willow that served as both the chief's house and town hall. The two brothers anxiously darted over towards the willow and crouched down, looking for a suitable place to climb up to the window outside the meeting room without being noticed.
After a moments contemplation, they silently agreed upon their destination. They swiftly and gracefully hopped up on the first, then the second step of the willow before jumping up and grabbing a limb that stretched around the house. Keeping crouched, they stealthily slithered across that limb before dropping down to a rather thick limb that served as part of the foundation for the tree house, barely an Elves height above the ground. After a few slippery and difficult paces, they inched up to the meeting room window and gazed in.
Immediatelly they noticed Chief Byrtum was flustered. His quick and jerky arm movements and back pedaling also told them of a heated argument between the two. The stranger, on the other hand, was very calm and cool having very fluid and relaxed movements. He wore an all black suit with ruffled, lacy sleeves accompanied by a dark purple cape and had his arms folded across his chest. His hair was black and hung down to his shoulders which made it nearly impossible to tell exactly what race he was (though he was clearly either Elf or Human). And he was a fairly bulky person, atleast for Night Elf standards.
The two appeared to be in a hypnotic dance together. The stranger matched Byrtums back-pedaling in near perfect harmony with calm, yet threatening steps of his own. It became very clear that this stranger was not welcome but it was just as clear that Byrtum was powerless to stop him. Byrtum continued his anxious pacing backwards, still arguing with the stranger, before he finally hit the wall of the meeting room. The stranger came to a stop, arms still folded calmly in front of him, only mere inches from Byrtum's face. The stranger let his arms drop, an easily detectable look of fear crossed the eyes of Byrtum as he stared deeply into the soul of the stranger.
Suddenly, in one quick movement, a dagger appeared in the hand of the stranger and sliced through Byrtum's tender throat as if it were nothing more than warm butter, causing the two brothers watching to let out a shrill cry. As Byrtum's life-blood spilled from the mortal wound across his throat, an intense fire caught flame in Jarius' heart. The infuriated Night Elf drew his sword and stood up, his teeth clenched tight as he stared with deep animosity at the stranger. Zacharim feared the worst, he knew that a sword was no use here, so he quickly locked his arms around Jarius and held on tight. Jarius struggled against his brothers arms, the fire in his eyes glowing a bright red, wanting nothing more then to impale the stranger on his blade. But soon his terrible grief overcame his anger, and the fire inside his soul died down, leaving him weak and hollow. He slumped to the ground, still in his brothers arms, unable to hold his own body up. Zacharim could only stare on in horror, with his body shaking ever so slightly at the site of Byrtum slumped on the floor.
The stranger knelt down cleaned the dagger on Byrtum's robe, then sheathed it. He then stood up and stared pridefully at his work for a very short second before his head whipped around towards the window, looking straight at the two horrified brothers. The stranger's deep red eyes locked on to the boys, and it became very apparent that he was neither Human nor Elf. With cat-like agility and speed, he darted towards the window, causing the startled brothers to loose their balance and tumble from the security of the limb on to the now dead forest floor. Dead leaves and grass, already a dark yellow, crunched under their weight as the two brothers crashed in a heap at the base of the lifeless willow.
Clumsily making it back to their feet and re-orienting themselves, they looked around only to see the entire city had surrounded them with countless weapons drawn. Their faces were twisted and contorted, with what could only be described as wicked and demonic smiles painting their faces. Most had already raided the weapons willow and armed themselves with whatever they could find, but others armed themselves with shovels, hoe's, and even broken bottles which could have at one point contained various healing brews. Huge black circles under their eyes--a stark contrast to their even more than usual pale bodies--twitched as they mumbled something inaudible and incoherent, yet full of hatred and clearly directed at the two boys.
Jarius, on instinct, pulled his sword from its sheath and assumed a defensive posture while soberly backing away, but Zacharim, motivated by intense fear, was already frantically trying to find any means of escape. The towns folk, now completly void of any signs of life, began to slowly tighten the circle around the brothers.
Just when all seemed lost, an icy cold wind came upon Zacharim. His body became rigid as this wind seeped through his pores and into the very fabric of his soul. His vision became narrow and foggy and his limbs began to numb as the wind circulated through every part of Zacharim, leaving the boy struggling to keep hold of even the slightest conscious thought. Layer upon layer of haze folded over his eyes, and the once easily distinguishable towns folk became a blend with the trees as he tried in vane to hold on to his sight.
In mere seconds he could no longer feel his body, no words could escape his mouth, and he had no control over even the slightest of movements. The distant echo of his brothers voice was impossible to interpret, like the sound of an invading armies trumpet bellows in the distance, and even that began fading. After what seemed like endless hours of torture, he lost all feeling of his senses; his hearing fading to whispers of malice inside his own head, his eyesight diminishing to show nothing but endless black, his body having gone completly numb, not even the once wonderful smell of the forest could be taken in and enjoyed. Even his very thoughts were garbled and misconstrued, like that of an infant. It was as if his soul was being raped and cast aside by some malevolent force, leaving nothing but desolation in its wake.
Suddenly, a great flash of light appeared before his eyes. His breath was forced out of his lungs as his pupils, fully dialated, struggled to take in the beautiful images of the forest that had finally come back to him. Chills went up and down every inch of his body before a powerful hot flash came over him, causing his pale skin to blush a bright red and sweat perfusely as the rest of his senses returned. He had never been so happy to hear silence in his life!
"Wha..." Zacharim choked out, his throat burning from a lack of moisture.
"Zach! I thought you would never wake up!" Jarius said, placing a moist piece of torn cloth over Zacharim's forehead.
Zacharim's eyes blinked in rapid succession as his mind processed where the garbled voice came from. Enduring the burning fire coming from his neck and shoulder muscles, he slowly turned his head towards the voice, only to see his older brother sitting down in front of him. After a few seconds (though they seemed like hours) Zacharim was finally able to discern his and his brothers location, atop a very tall pine tree away from the town.
"Wha...what happened...?" Zacharim's voice was noticably scratchy and hoarse from the terrible fire, burning in his throat.
"The town surrounded us, and suddenly you went pale. Before I knew it, you were lying down on your back in a stupor and I was carrying you out of the town. We've been atop this tree since."
"Water..."
Jarius quickly pulled out a leaf sack full of water from under his robes and tipped it up towards Zacharim's mouth, allowing the liquid to pour freely. The cold, refreshing liquid soothed the Night Elf's throat as it made its journey through Zacharim's distraught body. Feeling strength returning to him, Zacharim snatched the leaf sack from Jarius' hands and began guzzling the cool water as if his life depended on it.
As the water refreshed his body, so too did it refresh his senses. As a cool wisp of night wind tickled the hairs on his body, he heard the sounds of sharp crackling in his ears, it was like music yet a terrible omen just the same. Zacharim turned his head, his muscles now fully rejuvenated, towards the crackling only to see a great fire consuming both the forest and the dark night sky all at once. Though he was far from the fire, Zacharim knew what was burning, his home town of Padorim. The acrid smell overpowered him, and Zacharim grimaced as he turned his head back towards Jarius.
"They destroyed it...Padorim...it's all gone..." Jarius said, a slight crack of sorrow in his voice.
"Everything..." salty tears began streaming down Zacharim's his face.
"It has been three days since then, we were lucky to escape with our lives...thankfully they do not know how to climb," Jarius tried, unsuccessfully, to stiffle his emotions.
"Did anyone else make it out...? And who are 'they'?" Zacharim's hands began trailing his face, wiping away his tears.
"'They' are what the towns folk were turned into...and yes...one other did escape..."
"I did," the voice was comfortingly familiar, Zacharim recognized it immediatly whipped his head around to see Chief Byrtum.
"I thought you were dead!" Zacharim said, forgetting for a second of the destruction of his home town.
"To be a three-hundred and forty-one year old Night Elf, one must learn certain tricks to stay alive," Byrtum said, smiling for a second until his expression turned to a look of pain. Zacharim's eyes began tracing the Chief but stopped as soon as he reached the left side of the Chief's chest, where he saw bloodied robes and a mortal wound.
"Even the craftiest trick could not have saved me from that man's wrath..." Byrtum tiredly slumped down the base of the tree.
Jarius walked over to Byrtum and adjusted what appeared to be old clothes acting as bandages over Byrtum's wound. He then sat down beside Byrtum and shut his eyes, a look of incredible sorrow and exhaustion painted across his face.
"Everything is gone..." Zacharim's grief returned full force as a steady stream of tears trickled down his face.
"No...you are wrong..." Byrtum's voice was garbled and difficult to make out. "We still have hope...but this hope lies only in this tome..."
Despite the anguish, Byrtum reached into his heavy robes and pulled out the same tome he had shown Zacharim three days ago. He locked eyes with Zacharim in silence, as if to catch his breath, before finally placing it on the branch in front of the young Night Elf.
"Just as I rescued you from the powerful jaws of the enemy, I will protect you for the remander of this night. But I shall not be around for long, I can feel my very soul slipping away from my body, and when this happens, my magic shall no longer be a bulwark against the enemy."
"Chief..." Zacharim stuttered out, tears for Byrtum now filling his eyes.
"Do not shed any more tears, I have spent more than my fair share of years upon this world, but others have not, and they have been destroyed by the enemy. Do not let their deaths be in vain Zacharim, the fate of the entire world rests on this tome reaching the Night Elves in the Shadow Forest to the far west. You must take it there, it will be a long and arduous journey filled with adversity...but you carry the souls of all our people with you, take comfort in that."
Zacharim remained silent, even after Byrtum had finished talking to him. His mind swirling with a myriad of thoughts from the deaths of all those he loved to the journey Byrtum had stretched out before him. The only time he had ever left Padorim was with a group of other Night Elves, usually a fairly large group as well, and he had never even taken a single step out of the Windy Wood, which concealed Padorim. How could he possibly make the journey? A three day journey just to escape the wood, filled with the living dead, then another twenty days at the least to reach the Shadow Forest, and what horrors would that leg of the journey have in store for him? He would meet many Goblins no doubt, perhaps some Orcs...or maybe even some fearsome Gramn. But his friends, his companions, the people he shared his life with...they would not die in vain. Silently and soberly, Zacharim made up his mind. He knew what must be done, he would risk traveling through Goblin territory, escaping Orc war bands, and even braving the ravenous Gramn packs. He would avenge the death of everything he has ever cared about any way he could.
"Oh...How I hate placing this burden on your shoulders...But I am afraid it is what must be done, for us three are the only ones left and my life is forfeit. Do not fear, though, your brother will accompany you through this forest," Byrtum began breathing heavily as his palms glistened with sweat. "I will speak no more, take rest now for you will need all the energy you can spare, but heed this one warning: even the very trees are under the enemies control!"
Zacharim sighed and stared at the Chief in disbelief, though masking an incredibly powerful inner conviction to the cause. The chief, however, was drained of all energy, and soon his eyes slowly shut in exhaustion. Zacharim looked over at his brother, seeing he was curled against the base of the tree dozing off in slumber.
Zacharim laid back against the branch of the tree, staring longingly into the black void of the night sky and into the stars. He had never seen the stars before this night in his seven years of life, and he was amazed at their simple yet majestic beauty. They pulsed enigmatically, each one like a tiny glimmer of hope sacrificing itself into the opaque night sky, to create that small silver lining to cut through the deep blanket of sorrow, to offer that last little bit of support that even the most stalwart adventurer occasionally needs. Tears now flowed freely from Zacharim's eyes as he continued staring into the stars, each pulse of each star whispering silent words of comfort to him. He tilted his head down slowly, chest heaving rhythmically up and down, as the blanket of sorrow wrapped itself tighter around Zacharim's soul. He felt asphyxiated, as if the sorrow would choke the life from his body, but an unexplainable inner strength courageously fought back against the sorrow and selflessly protected him. Deep in his heart, he knew the strength came from those stars, those same stars that attempted to fill his heart with comfort were now valiantly protecting him from his deep sorrow and pain. He whipped his head up, face now sticky with innumerable tears, and offered a silent word of thanks to those tiny specks of hope embedded deep within the night sky.
Suddenly, a great fog covered Zacharim's eyes, and he knew the Chief had cast a sleep spell on him. He slowly relaxed against the the branch of the tree and shut his eyes as he slowly drifted off into slumber.
Dreams, like a window into a far away universe, can display what even the maddest wizard could never have envisioned. But from the hypnotic images of these fear-inspiring dreams can be gleaned subtle hints to the future, the past, the present, even the very fabric of reality. Yet to snag these images from the deep recesses of the mind, it requires the patient reach of one who does not fear the very core of terror, one who has already died...
Zacharim's mind was wracked with such dreams that night. A great shadow loomed over-head, a shadow of death and decay, of unmerciless slaughter and unfathomable power. A shadow that sought the blood of the defenseless boy. All he could do was run, to somehow escape the nightmare chasing him, but despite how fast he ran, how far he swam, and how high he climbed, he could not escape this shadow. It left a ruined world behind it, decaying the very fabric of life in its wake.
Only on a great cliff did he stop. A cliff above the clouds, covered in ice and snow, a deserted cliff where no life could be found. The cliff shrunk around him, he knew not how he got to it or how he could get down, or if he even wanted to get down. He tilted his head down, only to see a deep white mist covering a bottomless descent. He need not turn his head up, nor to either direction, for the cliff had shrunk around him leaving only enough room for his two feet to remain planted. Nothingness was around him, the mountain that bore the cliff had escaped into oblivion, all that remained was this tiny cliff, the shadow looming before him, and a bottomless descent into a black void. The shadow encircled the tiny cliff, suffocating Zacharim with the rotten stench of decay, until finally consuming him in one fell swoop.
Zacharim was tossed from this hellish nightmare with no witness to his distress but a thin line of persperation coating his body. He opened his eyes to see the night had passed, and his brother climbing the tree with two sacks filled with what is probably the last bit of food left in the entire Windy Wood.
"Bout' time you woke up! Come, we must go at once!" Jarius shouted as he jumped up to the branch Zacharim was on, tossing his brother a sack fashioned from old clothes.
"Wha...?" Zacharim blurted out, still very much disoriented.
Jarius hastily strapped his sack to his shoulder and motioned with his head over to the Chief, who was silently lying against the base of the tree. Zacharim's heart plummeted to the pit of his stomach as he realized the elderly chief had died in his sleep.
"Run now, cry later. I do not know how long the Chief has been dead, but I do know I do not want to be around when the enemy captures the body of such an adept wizard!" Jarius had already started his quick descent down from the tree.
Zacharim slowly stood up and strapped his sack to his shoulder, not once taking his eyes off the Chief. Even the now wide-spread fire could not take Zacharim's attention from Byrtum's lifeless body. Memories of the Chief flooded in, both of his unending love for his people and his battle-worn callousness. He wondered how such a powerful wizard could be gone, just like that, how powerful an enemy he must be facing that could take the one person who was seemingly untakeable.
Another call from Jarius quickly broke Zacharim's grief ridden trance, and Zacharim acknowledged with an uninspired nod. He took one last look at the beautiful cerulean sky before finally hopping down, knowing he may never see that sky, or its counter-part, the stars, again.
Unfamiliar Territory
A great mist had descended upon the forest, coupled with the fire; it caused the forest to glow a dark red. The air was stagnant and smelled of both decaying flesh and ash; Zacharim wondered if this is what Byrtum meant by a great shadow. Zacharim was left with no time to ponder, though, as Jarius, already accustomed to the changes of the forest, was urging him on.
The path Jarius chose was one both he and his brother had taken many times. It took them on a wide crescent, traveling north and slightly west so as to avoid the thick, nearly impassable brush of the deeper parts of the Windy Wood. It was well beaten by a great many horses and Night Elves in its time, and still wreaked of the Goblins who had obviously used this path to siege Padorim, which means somewhere along this very path lies the spot where the Goblins were flanked by the living dead.
Could the same fate befall us? Zacharim wondered. No, he assured himself, knowing that his brother is an excellent scout, and soon enough they would be at Brackenbelt Hills, the Human town that marked the end of the long path.
Though the path was large, the two Night Elf brothers were so well adept at stealthy travel that they were as easily perceived as a shadow in the dark. They stealthily traveled through the forest, parting the acrid odor and sharp crackle of the fire behind them. The trees were now totally devoid of life, their leaves had begun to wilt with light shades of yellow now forming at their tips. Though they appeared dead, they seemed to twist and turn, as if trying to look at the boys. Zacharim nervously looked from tree to tree with only the shadows hiding an expression of terror, but soon excruciatingly nervous seconds turned into minutes, and those minutes turned into hours, and Zacharim had finally managed to put the horrors of the forest out of his mind, so much so that it allowed his mind to wander as he drifted along only a couple feet behind from his brother.
They were making excellent time; the odor seemed less pervasive now and the glow around them less bright. It seemed that perhaps, if they were indeed lucky, they would need to nap but once before finally reaching their destination. This thought sent a warm shiver up Zacharim’s spine.
Suddenly Jarius halted dead in his tracks, and Zacharim, not noticing, crashed into his brother’s back, sending both brothers tumbling forward slightly. Zacharim looked on surprised as his brother turned around, terror printed across his face.
"I...I have no memory of this place..." Jarius said, the dark red glow on his face making him look all the more terrified.
"What?" Zacharim replied.
"This place...it's as if I have never been here before."
"What do you mean?"
"Zach! Listen to me! The trees...they...aren't where they are supposed to be!"
Jarius tilted his head down in thought while Zacharim keenly eyed the forest, realizing that the path had narrowed and no clear destination could be perceived. But they soon shared a common focus and felt a cold flash of fear arch through their bodies as they heard the sound of dried leaves crunch in the distance. They crouched down as low as possible and remained silent, allowing the shadows to envelope them, while they intently listened to the hypnotic crunching sound now approaching them.
The crunching drew closer and closer, so close that both boys easily distinguished an offbeat rhythm, as if a painful limp had stricken the creature approaching them. Their bodies tensed up as what appeared to be a Goblin warrior appeared from behind a tree...missing the upper left half of his body. Zacharim panicked, and in trying to draw his bow, he stumbled to the ground. The crunch alerted the maimed Goblin to the boy’s presence and, with his only arm wielding a sword, he slowly marched over.
Jarius soberly stood up and unsheathed his sword, while Zacharim rushed to his feet and drew his bow, standing a few precious feet behind his brother. A single arrow shot out from Zacharim's fingertips and cut through the red glow, piercing the mangled chest of the Goblin still many feet away. Though the arrow protruded through the back of his armor, he continued his rhythmic dance over to the boys undaunted. Jarius' hands tightened around his sword as two more arrows whizzed by his head and once again struck the Goblin, this time in its only good arm.
The Goblins arm flinched slightly as his sword plummeted to the ground, but, once again, his slow yet relentless march towards the boys was not deterred. Jarius knew this was his chance, and in a ferocious leap, he attacked the Goblin, burying the edge his sword deep into the right side of the creature’s neck down to its chest. But, despite the wounds inflicted upon him, the Goblin reached his right arm up and locked his spidery fingers around Jarius' neck. Jarius struggled against the Goblins hand, unable to free himself, while digging his sword deeper into the creature’s chest.
Another arrow cut through the red glow before piercing the right eye of the mangled warrior as Zacharim tried desperately to assist his now weakening brother. But it was for naught, as the Goblins powerful vice grip on Jarius' neck would not be broken. Jarius soon let go of his sword and both hands began pulling on the Goblins arm as he tried in vain to free himself.
In a panic, Zacharim ran up to the struggle and picked up the Goblins sword. Grasping it tightly and, summoning up all the courage he could find, he recklessly swung the sword and lopped off the Goblins head. The Goblins grip on Jarius' neck ceased, and the vile creature collapsed unceremoniously to the ground in a heap. Jarius knelt down, hands clutching his throat, and bowed his head with his eyes shut tight.
"No blood..." Jarius said in between violent coughs.
"Are you alright?" Zacharim replied as he began scouring his bag for a leaf sack of water to give to his ailing brother.
"I'm alright...save the water."
Jarius slowly stumbled to his feet and pulled his sword from the Goblins chest, to a very relieved Zacharim. Seeing his brother was all right, Zacharim looked down to the Goblin and witnessed just Jarius said, not a single drop of blood escaped the creature’s body! Zacharim knelt down and, with jittery fingers, took the sheath to the Goblins sword and affixed it to his own belt.
"Give me a second, there must be a way out," Jarius said as his eyes darted across the forest landscape, searching in vain for anything that looked remotely familiar.
There was not a single sign of a path now, only countless trees in every direction. The ground was the same, though, in fact the trees seemingly created a small barren circle around them. The scene was all too foreboding and Zacharim, terror now fully clouding his heart, ran over to his brother’s side.
Zacharim sheathed the stolen sword and stood by anxiously as his brother searched, but the sounds of more bustle in the distance soon caught both brothers attention. Although the bustle seemed fairly far off, it came from a great many feet, and they were moving fast.
"Brother?" Zacharim said nervously.
"Umm..." Jarius said, a fierce look of concentration printed on his face.
"T-They are coming brother..." the fear in Zacharim's voice came out as a whisper.
"Run..."
The two paused briefly, silently deciding on their path, then sprinted away in the opposite direction of the bustle. Leaping over high tree roots and rolling under low branches, the two darted blindly through the ever increasingly bright red glow. The sharp and rhythmic crunch of dead leaves beneath their feet and the trees passing them by in a haze fell on blind eyes and deaf ears as the two, driven by unrelenting fear, would not yield their charge for any excitement of the senses. In their haste, they failed to notice the trees around them, as they seemed to rotate and enclose around the brothers. Sweat now streamed off of their forehead and neck as the heat beat down on them. The trees grew thicker as they passed them, many times having to pause just to squeeze through.
Twigs snapped and limbs broke all around them, some by their own maniacal fear and others seemed to be only mere feet from them. They let the sounds guide them, often times making sharp turns one way or the other as the crunches seemed to come from directly in front of them.
They traveled this way for far too long, and Zacharim had fallen behind as his legs grew weary and began to fail, while Jarius continued blazing a path through the trees. Suddenly, a tree root snagged Jarius foot causing him to crash to the black, ash covered ground, at the edge of the tree line. Zacharim felt renewed strength in his legs, as he witnessed a black cloud rise all around Jarius, and darted over to his brother’s side. He quickly lifted his brother up from the ground and, to his astonishment, found himself in the now burnt down city of Padorim! Jarius had no time to re-orient himself as a tree branch lashed out and smacked both brothers in the back, causing them to lunge forward and into the ash covered ground of the destroyed city.
The two quickly got to their feet but the trees had already enclosed around the city so tightly that light itself could not find a way through. The fire, they noticed, had already leveled the village and moved on, though it seemed the possessed trees were not affected and had stretched mainly towards the south. A few fires still burned throughout the village, though, causing the heat to be close to unbearable. The two, side by side, took very nervous steps towards the center of the village, where the great tree still stood, now completely shrouded in fire.
As they approached, they noticed a great many bodies dangling from the branches of the great tree, attached only by steel chains wrapped tightly around their neck. As they got closer, they were also faintly able to notice what appeared to be small, human-like shadows darting back and forth from the lynched bodies, tearing a bit of flesh from the bone each trip. The smell was unbearable, rotted flesh and burnt flesh filled the air like a poisonous gas, rendering the brothers unable to move forward.
"Two little Night Elves, thought they could escape, little did they know, they are already in the belly of the beast!" A sinister voice called out to them.
The two whipped their heads around towards the voice, only to see the same caped man that took the chief's life. His arms were crossed and his eyes locked proudly on the two brothers only a tree's height away, and soon he began slowly walking towards them.
"You!" Jarius called out in anger as he drew his sword.
"So foolishly eager to fight, you will make a wonderful addition to my army...I believe we will scrap the other though," The man said, a now distinguishable grin painted across his face.
A cold shiver ran up and down the spine of Zacharim as he realized those that hung from the tree were being "scrapped". He drew his sword nervously and began slowly backing away.
"I believe you have something I want," the man said coldly, his grin now turning into a grimace as hard as steel.
"We have nothing..." Zacharim said fearfully.
"Ha! Now is not the time for games worm, that tome the wizard gave you, I demand you give it to me and your death will not be painful," he said, his pace now quickening.
"He already told you, we ha-" Jarius began to say, but was soon interrupted by the sinister man, now only ten feet away.
"I can bring you to the absolute apex of pain until you die, then bring you back to life only to have you experience it again an infinite number of times with a simple snap of my fingers if you make me mad! Now give me the tome!" The tone was as harsh and violent as the fire that swallowed half the Windy Wood.
The two brothers started slowly backing away from the man as he approached, now with a terribly sinister look on his face. While Zacharim stumbled over burnt wood as his pace quickened, Jarius began to inch in front of his brother, perhaps as if to act as his brothers guardian, or perhaps to give himself a better angle of attack. And attack he did, in a sudden burst of acceleration he dashed at the man and, in a powerful whipping motion, slashed at his face, only to have the blade of his sword halted between the mans vice-like hands.
"Pitiful," the sinister look faded away, replaced by an equally evil grin.
Again, what seemed like a bone chilling wind came upon Zacharim, but this time, instead of his senses abandoning him, they grew stronger. His eyes grew increasingly powerful and were zooming in over and over again on the mans face until it seemed he was inside his mind! Zacharim blinked feverishly, then held his eyes shut as he felt thousands of prickly tingles run up and down his body. Though his eyes were shut, he seemed to bathe in the mans mind, whimsically taking in what the man knew.
Jarius, on the other hand, was now at the mercy of the man, who had his arms clenched tightly around his throat in a powerful headlock. Jarius kicked and struggled against his bone-crunching lock but it was all in vain, he could not free himself.
Jarius finally caught sight of his once again trance-like brother and weakly yelled out, "Oh no, not again!"
Suddenly Zacharim’s eyes shot open, and a swell of confidence had risen and taken shape in his body. He quickly reached down and picked up a single log, still wreathed in flame, and, pulling out the aged tome, held the fiery log near the corner of the tome.
"What are you doing?" Jarius screamed, his voice now very weak and sounding not much unlike that of a small child.
"Let him go and show us a path!" Zacharim cried, ignoring his brother’s faint call.
The man, now with a livid look on his face, ignored the demand and stubbornly stepped forward.
"Let him go, and show us a path!" Zacharim cried, even more emphatically than last time.
Still undaunted, the man ignored the demand and began approaching Zacharim with his arm still locked tightly around Jarius' neck. Not to be deterred, Zacharim pulled the flaming log closer towards the tome, causing the man to stop dead in his tracks.
"Let him go!"
Seeing no other recourse, he began to loosen the deadly headlock on the nearly unconscious Night Elf. With his face now a light shade of blue, Jarius struggled out of the mans grip and quickly stumbled to his brothers side, gasping heavily.
"Now, show us a path out of this place," Zacharim said, now much calmer as his brother was freed.
"You will never leave this forest alive, you know this little one."
"Show us a path!"
"As you wish."
The man raised his right arm towards the brothers with all four fingers pressed together, pointing at them. Then, stiffening his arm, what can only be described as a fierce red wind began swirling around his arm from his shoulder until finally taking shape at the tips of his fingers as a small ball of fire. The man grunted slightly, and the fireball shot from his hand and blazed right at the brothers.
Jarius gasped and crouched low but Zacharim stood confidently tall as the fireball stormed by only inches from his head. The fireball exploded into the tree bulwark and effortlessly blew a gaping hole in its ranks, leaving a clear path into the forest. Though the blast was deafening, Zacharim's eyes never strayed, and even after he was satisfied what he asked for had been achieved he kept his eyes locked on the mans and slowly backed away, with the flame leaping off of the log dangerously close to the tome, towards the blistering heat of the explosion.
"You shall die...You shall die," the man continued repeating himself over and over again, even as the boys crossed the threshold of the blasted barricade and into the forest.
The boys were nowhere to be seen, but the man remained standing where he was. A small imp-like creature with barbed hooks for hands ran up to the man and crouched low.
"Massster Daaman they gone...what to do?" He spoke in a slimy snake-like tone at his entranced master.
"They will not get far, though the small one intrigues me, have you gathered enough flesh?" Daaman said, turning his head towards the three-foot tall imp.
"Yessss! Yes master! We do now?" A rather gleeful tone could be deciphered beneath the hisses.
Daaman turned his head back towards the hole before replying with a cold, "Yes."
The imp seemed to meld with the shadows as he darted off towards the giant flesh pile, occasionally letting out a crow-like screech as he ran. Daaman glared at a group of the now zombified villagers before slowly walking towards the hole. The villagers, as if compelled by a supernatural force, stealthily scattered about throughout the forest with their master only a few feet behind. | |
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