If the Pyrians found us here it would almost definitely start a war, but if we didn’t find Mortain the world would almost certainly bleed. It was a calculated risk on my part, but with any luck there were no Pyrians for many leagues. My mind played over the events that had brought my small band of warriors here to the edge of the Pyrians most sacred forest.

The council had been torn, solve the problem ourselves or tell the Pyrians and ask for their aid in what was sure to become a mutual problem, if not solved. Eventually reason had won out and I was summoned to gather my best team to track and eliminate the threat of the abomination they had created, Mortain.

Our scholars had been studying him for years, but only the spirits knew what he was or what they had created in him. He looked harmless enough, at first glace anyway. He had done something we had never been able to do in all our centuries. He grasped the Pyrian skills of magic, weaving the elements like one would weave wool into cloth. I had reason to suspect he had managed more than that. He hadn’t shown it directly, but he moved with a grace and fluidity that I had seen only a handful of our people master. He moved like a warrior, when he thought he wasn’t being watched. He had somehow melded all this into a seemingly innocuous form of a small bald man.

Then two moons ago he escaped from the infirmary after appearing near death for days. My skill as a tracker and general were being put to the test by this one small man. Over a moon of tracking him, finally we were catching up, but the trail had led here. One of the few places we were supposed to never set foot. I whispered a silent prayer to the spirits as I motioned my men forward into the long forbidden forest. Each looked at the other hesitantly, but said nothing as we moved in and spread out to search the area.

I could only hope the decoys I had sent out over the last few weeks would be distraction enough to keep the Pyrians gaze fixed firmly to the north. The villages were small enough to be of little consequence to the Pyrian nobles, but it was on Pyrian land so it should at least garner some interest. The reports that had returned said the humans had sent out a few bands to beg help where they might. The village wasn’t my target, but it would have to do. My only other option was a suicidal attack on Drakenhelm, which would be declaring war anyway. So I had ordered the village burned by a handful of my men.

“Report.” I called into the wind. Within seconds my five lieutenants landed in front of me, and dropped to one knee. Each bowed his head slightly, but kept their eyes up, always on target, as any well trained warrior should. Each held their sword lightly in one hand, the point resting lightly in the dirt just inches in front of their knees. I knew this pose well, it was a deceptive pose. Others would see it and think of it as submission.

“Nothing sir. There is no trace of the human, Mortain. His tracks lead off into the depths of the wood, but they get lost among the moss and overgrowth.” Three of the others nodded in silent agreement.

“Sir, I found a cavern leading underground, there were tracks in, but none coming out. I believe he may be in there.” Tyver, the youngest of my lieutenants looked a little pleased with himself, he was still looking to prove his worth as a soldier. This was definitely a good step in the right direction.

I nodded. “Good, let’s make our way there quietly and be done with this.” I paused listening to the forest around me. “I don’t like the feel the forest has taken on. It’s gotten far too still, be on guard.” I drew my swords and took the lead. Tyver close at hand showing the way to our pray.

The already dense forest grew thicker, until no trace of outside world penetrated the thick tangle of boughs, which loomed thirty or more feet over our heads. Mist clung to the carpet of leaves hugging the base of the colossal tree. I held my hand up, bringing everyone to stop instantly. I could see the cavern entrance just ahead on the far side of a small clearing, but my gut screamed. Something wasn’t right. Then I realized, the mist, there had been no mist anywhere else.

“PYRIANS!” My men jumped into position, each back to back with another as the Pyrians jumped from the mist and took shape their swords at the ready, their red eyes glowing like smoldering embers in the deep gloom of their forest.

“We’ve been waiting for you. Die dog!” One of the Pyrians snarled as he leapt at Tyver.

They moved like the water in an ever quickening river, their movements so fluid, not a single motion was wasted. My troops and I fought back meeting them steel to steel. We had a brute strength foreign to all but the eldest Pyrians, but they had a swiftness and fluidity that made even me marvel. I saw a sword erupt through the chest of one of my men and saw him fall, as another cleaved his head from his body. His body crumpled into a pile of ebony feathers at my feet. I swung at one of the Pyrians and felt my swords strike true catching in his spine, as I saw the leader of this pack and leapt across the field towards him, leaving my previous combatant to die my sword still stuck in his side. My wings easily carried me the distance, and I grabbed him by the back of his head, my black nails slicing deep into his pale skin and causing rivers of crimson to run down his face. I carried his wriggling form as I flew straight up into the boughs high above. I drove his head into the trunk of a particularly large elder tree before dropping his motionless body to the ground thirty feet below.

I charged down the tree, slowing only slightly to grab my sword as I passed over the corpse on the ground and swept upwards at the last moment to bring myself to a stop between Tyver and another Pyrian. Tyver, who lay gore covered and prone on the blood soaked earth, was defending himself as best he could, but the Pyrian clearly had the advantage. The strength of my wings buffeted the Pyrian, knocking him off balance as I brought one of my swords crashing down, he raised his blade in time to deflect my blow to the side, sending my blade cutting down his visor as I swung the other sword, cleaving deep into his shoulder and neck. His armor had hurt him, limited his vision. My sword took the path of least resistance into the side of his neck. He fell to his back and lay struggling to breathe through the blood which filled his mouth and throat. I thrust the tip of my blade into small gap in the visor and silenced him forever.

A quick survey of the battlefield showed two more of my men had fallen. Tyver was badly injured, a blade having nearly severed one of his hands. This was a fight we could not win. They were quickly gaining the upper hand and outnumbered us, as Tyver was hardly a combatant at this point.

“To the sky!” I scouted to what remained of my men, the three of us shot upwards into the trees, and began to weave our way through the numerous limbs ever higher, as long as we were among the boughs we could not stop, I didn’t know how much they were willing to risk to pursue us but I wasn’t going to be foolish enough to stop and find out. We plunged into the dense leaves of the lower canopy, the Pyrians close on our heels as the leapt deftly from one branch to the next.

Tyver’s hand was streaming blood as we tore through the branches, and finally erupted from the uppermost reaches of the forest canopy and shot into the sky. We hung in the air for a moment as our wings caught on a warm updraft. Tyver’s face, normally a deep healthy turquoise, was pale and ashen. He smiled weakly for a moment as his wings folded and he plunged back into the depths of the forest below. Four of my men were dead, we had lost our quarry, and we had most likely started a war. This would be a hard report to give.

We spread our wings to take full advantage of the updraft and turned on the wind. Aurnol was a few days away, but the wind was blowing favorably, so we could probably get there in a day if we rode the currents. We set our sights to the north and soared towards the rising sun, its warm rays the only light in this otherwise dismal day.

The Eastern Wood had begun to shrink in the distance, as the wind shifted, a sudden down current sent us plummeting toward the ground uncontrollably. The wind churned, gusting from north to south then south to north, east and then west. The air currents writhed out of control, never before had I witness such unpredictable winds. We were both caught ourselves just moments before we would have been dashed upon the ground. As long as these winds kept up there was no we could fly, this trip was about to get much longer.

We walked all through the night, the winds continuing to churn the entire time. We were still trudging across the landscape when the sun rose the next day. We could see trees torn up from the ground, their roots squirming in the wind, like fingers caked with dirt clawing their way up from the depths of the earth. The winds spiraled and swirled, off in the distance clouds spiraled toward the ground, kicking up huge dust clouds wherever they made contact. In all my centuries I had never seen such sights, never experienced winds I could not fly in. Lightning flashed in the distance over the Narl Ocean, as more of the spiraling clouds flitted about on the waters churning surface.

It was night before we reached Aurnol, only two of the six that had set out on what was supposed to be an easy mission. Worse yet, we may have started a war with the Pyrians, the one thing we had been hoping to avoid. The sentries were standing at the city’s hidden gates, normally they would have been patrolling from the skies above the city, but the weather here was the same as what we had encountered enroute, so none of our normal patrols were possible.

The look in their eyes when they saw our bruised and battered figures was unmistakable. Disappointment and concern, we had failed and all of our futures were in the hands of the spirits now. “The others?” I just shook my head as I made my way to the twisting path up into the mountain top city.

The sentries inside the city left at once to gather the council, the meeting would go well into the night. I hadn’t slept in two days, but this couldn’t wait, they needed to be made aware of the events. I sent my lieutenant home to his family and to bed. I would make visits to the other houses in the morning.

The streets were blissfully empty as I made my way to the meeting hall. Normally I would walk these streets my head held high and proud, today I knew I looked like a beaten man, I felt the slump of my wings and the plodding pace at which I moved. I had failed my men and my people and the future looked grim because of my failure. I replayed the battle over in my mind as I paced the floor, awaiting the council’s arrival.

The five elders entered the building and looked expectantly at me. I cleared my throat and motioned for them to sit. “The Pyrians were waiting for us, when we followed Mortain’s trail into the Eastern Woods. We should ready ourselves for war.” I paused, and swallowed the bitter pill that was my pride. “I was wrong. I shouldn’t have given the order to go into the wood. Four of my men met their end at the end of Pyrian blades, because they followed my orders. Three of their knights survived the battle and will undoubtedly bring evidence of our trespass to their leaders.”

Tanais who had sat silently, spoke first as the other shook their heads and cast concerned looks at one another. “Zephrin, have you informed any of the families yet?”

“No, I came straight here. I don’t have their swords to present their loved ones. They are still back on the ground in that cursed place.” The disappointment and frustration must have been more apparent in my voice then I had realized as the murmuring ceased and all of them looked up at me, looks of shock and confusion on their faces.

“Yes it is customary to present the swords of the fallen to their families, but if you had stopped to gather their blades, who would be returning yours to us, or warning us of this most dire situation which we now face. Ceremony has its purposes, but in some cases it is best left to gather the dust of an antiquity.” Indra was on her feet while she spoke, the hunched form of the elder gone as she pulled herself up proudly. She had been a great warrior in her day, now the wisdom of her years shone through as she spoke. “Zephrin, we have all had left blades behind. Sometimes it is unavoidable, give the families your condolences, let them make peace with their loss. They will understand.” She had a warm smile, much like a grandmothers. With a sigh she lowered herself back down into her great chair, and the proud warrior gave way to the elder once more.

“I will inform them at sun up. I cannot rob them of the chance to dream one last time of those who will not return.” I turned and started to leave, but stopped midstride. I looked back over my shoulder. “The Pyrians will know by now, we need to prepare ourselves. The winds are against us, and that could spell disaster if we are not careful.” I turned back to the exit and closed my eyes for a moment hoping that when I opened them I would be in bed and this would all have been a horrible dream. It was not, so I stepped out into the city proper my heart heavy with the day’s tasks.

The council let me leave, they had much to ponder and I could give them little guidance at this juncture. My area of expertise was battle, and until they issued the orders to prepare I would wait. I had a hard enough day ahead of me, and rumors were already spreading from the sentries who had seen our joyless return. Weariness was stalking my steps, but food and sleep would have to wait, I had four families that would be waiting for their husbands, fathers and sons.

My day was filled with tears, and fists beating against my chest, the white eyes of wives and children welling up as the azure tears rolled down their turquoise faces. The ebony wings of loved ones sagging as they leaned against the wall for support as the world was ripped out from underneath them, and then wrapped around their children, as if to shield them from the harsh realities of our world. Each face held the same look of fear and disbelief as I approached, and each held the same heartbroken look as I left, and at all times the ever present; how did you come back and they did not?

I had to wonder if the Pyrian knights were making similar visits to the homes of their fallen. It was hard to empathize with an enemy, especially one who had killed my men in front of me, but I had killed their men as well. We were all just soldiers, and in the end it was our job to fight and die for the safety of our people. There is always a winner and a looser in battle, and in this battle we had sadly drawn the short stick.

My final stop before I could fall into the sweet oblivion that was sleep was the home of Tyver, this had been his first time out in the field, and he had fought well, but the enemy had fought just a bit better. He had no widow. The joining day for his age was still a year away. It was no easier to tell his parents and his betrothed that he would not be coming home. I was near exhaustion as I gave them the ill tidings, and saw the agony work its way across their faces, as the held tight to each other for solace.

The foul work of the day had left me unable to think of food, so with a mouthful of ale to wash the bitter taste of sorrow and defeat from my mouth, I fell into bed as sleep pounced upon me like a hungry animal.

My dreams were fitful at best. The land was ablaze, the dried ground cracked under my feet, and the seas churned in the distance. The bodies of friend and foe alike littered the ground for as far as the eye could see in every direction. The clouds, if that’s what they could be called, sickly yellow abominations that they were, tore across the blackened sky driven by hells own winds, blotting out the midday sun. The earth quaked, shaking as if an animal trying to dislodge some parasite. It was as if Eldragor itself had come alive and was ripping its very being apart.

I awoke, the sheets of the bed soaked with sweat and the bedside table toppled, its contents scattered across the floor. I sat shaken to my core by the dream which now haunted my waking thoughts. Outside I could hear the howling of the wind as it raced across the cliff face, echoing the screaming winds I had heard in my dream.

I plunged my hands into the wash basin and let the cool water trickle through my fingers back into the pool below as I lifted my cupped hands. I splashed the water over my face, hoping to wash away the memories of that sinister dream.

I leaned back against the lintel of my door. The sky had grown dark while I slept and now the Weeping One was high overhead, and the Burning Moon was just beginning to climb in the North West, far over the Forest of Flames. I pondered the meaning of my dream, and while I could not be certain of their exact meaning, I could only see one possible outcome from them, and it was an ill fate indeed.