Prologue
"Darkness Falls"
Twilight had fallen on the majestic city of Wilhiem’s Grace, the great city named after and dedicated to the great God Wilhiem, the God of Light. Around the city great plains of crops were being harvested by Human and Halflings alike, the summer months were at an end and the bitter months of winter were coming. As the sun set its last rays gleamed off of the Tower of Light, the massive tower, cut out of marble and polished smooth, was the bastion of the Paladins, the great warriors of Light, using the power and blessing bestowed upon them by Wilhiem. As darkness fell in the alleyways, two men stepped out of the bar and headed towards the Tower, the last gleam of light reflecting off of their polished armor of steel and gold.
"It’s going to be a bitter cold winter, you can already feel it in the wind now" said the taller of the two.
"Aye, and this war you humans are fighting aint helping things lad" said his dwarf comrade.
The war between the human cities had been going on for close to a decade now, each city vying for supreme power over the other cities. It all began when the southern city of Solitude demanded aid from the other cities to help drive off raiding Orc clans. River Bastion located on in the west on the banks of the great Silvantari River sent no aid for they were humble fisherman and didn’t have a standing army to send. Goshiem’s Hold a city of farmers in the east and a half days ride north of Wilhiem’s Grace also didn’t send aid, on account that their king saw no need to with the harvest so close. The Kingdom of Ice, as it had become called for being so far north in the Skelnesh Mountains, named after the Dark Elves patron goddess and the Lady of Darkness, also sent no support to Solitude, not on account of distance or lack of arms, but because their king couldn’t be bother to. Wilhiem’s Grace, the only city to lend aid to Solitude was greeted with cold thanks, for they only sent their standard army and not the Paladins who called the city home.
As the bickering of the kingdoms started to grow into acts of violence the other races of Thessia had tried to remain as neutral as possible during the conflict. The Grand Council, the governing body for all of Thessia, made up of the High Elves Elder Council, the Dwarves Council of Masters and the Humans Kings Council, had all but ceased meeting for the past decade. The last meeting of The Grand Council had ended with bloodshed, with the king of Solitude driving a dagger into the king of Wilhiem’s Grace. The attack didn’t kill, but the message had been sent, and the Humans went to war.
"Right you are" said the human, tall and muscular, with sandy blond shoulder length hair and a beard of the same color. "And I don’t see an end in sight, what with the ’icies constantly attack not only Bastion, but Goshiem’s as well."
"Aye laddy" said his dwarf counterpart, half the size of the human, he had bright auburn hair and a massive beard that nearly reached his feet. "The uneasiness is growing up in Thagmire, the Council of Masters are weary that the Icies will grow bored with harassing ye, and turn onto we Dwarves for not aiding ’em, seeing as we are neighbors an’ all."
"Don’t worry, you dwarves are safe behind those massive doors you built."
"Right ye are lad, right ye are"
As the neared the golden doors of the Tower, the sun had fully set and the first stars were appearing.
"A moonless night, a bad omen" the human muttered.
"Heh, don’t tell me ye believe that nonsense" laughed the dwarf as the entered the tower.
On one of the rooftops overlooking the Tower, a figure watched the two Paladins enter the massive building and disappear from sight. It turned to a smaller shadow next to it "Tell the others to be ready in two hours, the Lady Skelnash is on site tonight." The goblin, whose skin was like all of his kind earth brown, and he’s eyes black as the night surrounding them, nodded at the dark elf and ran towards the edge of the roof and climbed down a ladder and out of sight.
Within an hours’ time twenty cloaked and hooded figures stood in the shadows looking at the Tower. If there had been any light one could see the hand and viper sigil embossed on their tunics, the sign of the Death’s Hands assassins. The infamous group, made up primarily of dark elves and goblins, for they enjoy torture and murder more than any of the races known to Thessia, were the most skilled, and costly group of assassins anyone could imagine.
"When we’s gonna strike? I’m freezing my fucking nose off" hissed a goblin.
"Soon, very soon" smirked a slender Dark Elf female, her red eyes surveying the surrounding streets for any signs of life. Her skin was like that of all her kin, fair and light, slightly paler than their cousins, the high elves, her hair black as the blackest night, and her eyes red as purest rubies anyone had ever seen.
"Look, here comes our spy" she said pointing to a figure leaving the Tower, whose facade mimicked that of the moonless night and looked as if it were carved out of onyx.
As the figure grew nearer his height became evident. Hidden behind the hood of his cloak, it was impossible to see his face. As he reached the safety of the shadows he lowered his hood, letting his wild sand blond hair fall to his shoulders and he brushed lint off of his beard.
"These lazy fucks ’dem not even expecting a call from a whore let alone you lot" said the spy, "the doors unlocked, and ready for you ta do your thing."
"Good, and who said Humans couldn’t be trusted" smirked the dark elf is a pleasant sing song voice.
"Er....right, so we good? You’s did get the payment, righ’?" asked the blond man.
"Oh yes, we were all paid handsomely" said another dark elf.
"Right, so I be gettin’ on then, need to go let me boys in Solitude kno....." the last of the man’s sentence was lost as the dagger was plunged into his abdomen. "But...we...had...a...dea......" gasped the dying man as his eyes rolled into the back of his skull.
"Oh but we do" said the dark elf female as she pulled her dagger out of the dead man. "The thing is though, we hate traitors as much as we hate humans. Neither can be trusted."
As the man’s blood began to pool around him, the group of assassins started to move towards the Tower. As he had said the door was unlocked, the great marble staircase that led to the living quarters and armory was alight by the torches in their sconces. Great tapestries hung on the walls of the foyer, depicting the god Wilhiem bestowing his grace and power onto a knight. Another showed the god Moridin, the dwarves name for Wilhiem giving his power to a lowly dwarf miner.
"This shit makes me sick" muttered a goblin as he eyed the tapestries, "can we use them to wipe our asses with after we’re done here?"
Other goblins nodded in approval but the dark elves remained silent. "We have a job to do first," said the spy killer, "once every last of this Light thumpers are dead do whatever you little shits want. But before that, you do what we were hired to do."
They slowly made their way up the well-lit stairs, ever observant that if they were seen, even by one of the Paladins, the task they were given and plans being made elsewhere would be all for naught. After a few minutes they reached the first landing, the armory, wall to wall was covered with weapons and armor. Swords, battle axes, war hammers, maces and flails adorned one wall. On the opposite were shields, and pieces of armor for every need, there was even armor for their horses. And in the center of the room, oblivious to their uninvited guests, sitting around a table polishing their weapons were five of Paladins.
Quick as lightning a goblin pulled out a throwing dagger and threw it at one of the targets, imbedding it into the dwarf’s throat, the blood mixing in with auburn hair of his beard, the life leaving his bright blue eyes almost instantly. Before the others could even react they were on top of them, daggers and short swords going everywhere, blood covering the table and the freshly cleaned weapons, no sounds were made from the Paladins, aside from their last gurgling breaths as their blood gushed from slit throats.
It was over in mere minutes and then the Death’s Hand stopped and listened, they were confident they hadn’t made any suspicious noise, but they were trained never to be careless. After a minute with no sound of alarm being raised, they started to climb up the Tower once more. The next landing found them in the enormous dining room, complete with a table that stretched the length of the room, two fireplaces adorned with intricate designs embedded with gold, obviously dwarven master work were set into the walls of each head of the table. No one was in this room, so the assassins started to make their way up when a hand servant unfortunately walked into the room using the servant’s passage.
She stopped dead in her tracks and dropped the stack of silver plates she was carrying. With the speed of a great forest cat, female dark elf was on top of the servant, the rest of the assassins quickly ran into the servant’s passage and closed the door.
"If you value your life" said the dark elf. "I greatly suggest that you run upstairs and stop them from coming down here." As she said this her eyes went up to the next floor, the living quarters of the Paladins. Very stiffly the servant nodded and ran as fast as she could up the stairs. The dark elf joined her comrades and together they started to climb the very narrow, but also dimly lit servant’s staircase up to the dormitories. Surprisingly the woman had done what was asked of her, so as the troupe of assassins neared the door to the living quarters they overheard a skinny man say to his fellow warriors "twas nuthin’, poor girl saw a spider crawling on her arm and dropped her dishes." The rest of the laughed and continued with what they were doing.
There was around fifty of them, none of them had armor but they could still have some sort of weapon on them. "What’s the plan, Shek’na?" said a tall dark elf male to the female that had been so far leading them this night. "They aren’t armored, should be easy for us to deal with them."
"Are you dumbed, Kal’tras" Shek’na said to the male. "Even without any weapons, the freaks are still able to call on their powers. No, we wait here for while I think of a plan."
After what seemed like an eternity in the cramped passageway, but in reality only half an hour Shek’na finally spoke. "Kal’tras, take two of your finest throat cutters and three goblins, and head back down to the dining area, where you’ll kill the filthy wench and whatever other servants you can find there. Make sure they scream good and loud that will be out sign. After you do that head up the stairs up to this floor, where the rest of us will be already setting about killing these miserable knights."
Kal’tras smiled and nodded and headed down the passageway with his small group of killers. Within moments a blood curdling scream came from below and the rest of the assassins made their move.
"Stand fast brother’s, we’re being att....argh!!!" screamed the skinny knight from before as a goblin jumped onto his back and bit into his neck. The blood gushed from the wound and the knight turned ghostly pale, the goblin lick the blood off his maw smiled a gruesome smile and went to find more prey. Shek’na cut her way through four Paladins before finding any resistance, when she ran into the back of a mountain of a man, standing well over seven feet tall, this had to be the biggest human she had ever seen, and to make matters worse he was armed with a sickly looking mace.
"And me brothers said I was mental to keep good ol’ Janice around at all times." the massive man said in a guttural voice. But before he could swing the wicked mace down on Shek’na a trio of goblins set onto him, biting and scratching his neck and face. Enraged and blinded by the goblins on him, the massive knight started to swing ’Janice’ around like a mad man. Sending as many assassins as his brothers into the wall of the Tower and into the beds that lined the wall. Getting back onto her feet, Shek’na watched in gleefully delight as this massive creature was doing her job for her, more knights were dying at his hand than at the hands of the assassins. Across the room she saw Kal’tras and his group run into the living quarters and into the fight. The male elf cut his way through knight after knight, kicking a dwarf in the head so hard that the dwarf just went down in a heap of beard and night clothes. Seeing him fight like this made her nether region moisten, thinking of what she would do to him after this was all over made her giddy with anticipation.
That feeling was short lived, for as quickly as those thoughts entered her mind, reality came shattering back. Kal’tras was blasted by an unseen force into a wall, as he stood blood covered his face and he looked towards his attacker. It was an older human, with greying hair and bright blue eyes, the Grandmaster. This wizened Paladin was the leader of the knights and the Councilor of War for the King of Wilhiem’s Grace. The power this man emanated made it clear why he was the leader of the Paladins, and as he stood in his robe looking at the dark elf he had just struck, he smiled at the damage he had caused. "Let Wilhiem judge ye wicked one, and let his sentence be just!" screamed the Grandmaster, and his hand shot forward and a hammer made of golden light appeared above Kal’tras. Looking up at the amazing yet despicable act of magic, Kal’tras never saw the old man motion his hand down. In a split second the hammer fell and smashed into Kal’tras’ head, blood and grey matter went everywhere, and the headless body slumped to the ground.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!" screamed Shek’na, and in a blind rage started towards the old man. Cutting down any human that got in her way she was near the Grandmaster now when the massive came stumbling into her path. With the nimble agility only her people and their wretched cousins the high elves possess, Shek’na jumped and flipped over the massive man, mid-air she unsheathed a dagger and drove it down deep into the giant’s skull. A sickening crunch went across the room and she landed in a crouch position in front of the old man.
"Ah, of course, the Death’s Hand." said the Grandmaster. "If you leave now, with no more bloodshed, I will pay you double whatever you were paid to commit this egregious offense."
Shek’na smirked, "That won’t be necessary" she said "as it so happens we’re killing the ones who paid us anyways."
A look of uncertainty crossed the eyes of the Grandmaster for a second, "Why in the name of all that is Holy, would you do that? Once word gets out of your treacherous act, no one will ever hire your services again."
"Once we’re done, we won’t need to hire ourselves out anymore." Shek’na said with great pleasure in her voice.
"What do you mean? What good are assassins that don’t take on assassinations?" asked the Grandmaster in stunned surprise.
"That, old man..." said Shek’na, with a smirk on her face. Quick as a snake she pulled out a katana and slashed it across the old man’s neck. As she slid her katana back into its sheath, the Grandmaster’s head fell from his shoulders and rolled across the floor. Picking up the still blinking head, she looked into the eyes of the disembodied head and whispered "is none of your concern."
As the last few Paladins fell, Shek’na turned to her associates, still numbering fifteen, and stuffed the head of the Grandmaster into her rucksack "This," she thought "will make the masters very happy." She gleefully smiled and said "Grab some torches and set the beds on fire, oh, and tell Granik that the tapestries are all his for wiping his ass with."
"Granik is over there Shek’na, that giant threw him off and broke his neck" said a goblin to her right.
"What a shame, well you other goblins take some of the helmets from down stairs, use them as shit buckets, and use the tapestries to wipe. All the remaining goblins looked to one another with sick smiles, and gleefully laughed.
As the bright sun shone over the barren landscape, a haze floated on the wind, concealing the bright star. The fires raged in the city, its flames heat seemingly rivaling that of the sun’s rays. On a nearby hill, three figures stood gazing intently at the destruction below. "Da screams are pleasant to me ears” laughed the orc looking over the destruction, his massive muscles twitching underneath his brown skin, almost threatening to burst out. Like all of his kin, fellow orcs, goblins and ogres his eyes were pitch black, and like all of the warrior clans war paint of different colors adorned his skin. He was dressed like most orcs and ogres are, in leather made of different animal skins, with a wolf fur coat on his back. His massive canines jutted up from the bottom jaw and were as high as his upper lip.
"You terrify me sometimes Gor’huk." Said the dark elf to the orcs left. Tall and slender his shoulder length black hair was tied up in a ponytail. His ruby red eyes squinting into the distance, as he watched the city burn. He stroked his goatee, a mark of great honor among his people, for they rarely grow facial hair, but when they do, it only comes in in that pattern, still unknown why to their people.
"Gud, little elf, don’t ferget dat" said Gor’huk in the guttural voice of his people, winking at his elven acquaintance.
"Need I remind you," said the elf unsheathing a wicked looking dagger with a black blade "that it was YOU who came to my people with your pathetic plan that we had to fix so that it worked."
"You dare draw a blade on the Great Gor’huk?" screamed the orc as he pulled the massive battle axe off his back "I’ll take yur head for that!"
"ENOUGH!!!!" yelled the third person of the party who, until now found the bickering amusing. "Gor’huk! Kal’thes! Stop the bickering, you sound like a couple of pathetic humans!" Covered in a robe head to toe with a hood covering his face, the only part visible of their third partner was his unholy white eyes which seemed to grow in intensity.
"My apologies, Sindrak, it won’t happen again." said Kal’thes in a very humbled voice as he put the dagger away.
"Ya, s’rry" apologized Gor’huk
"Never in my years would I ever think I would see this." Coming up the hill, Shek’na was smiling at this scene, taking great pleasure in the uncomfortable silence that now followed.
"Daughter, you’re earlier than we expected." grumbled Kal’thes at this sudden and inconvenient interruption.
"What can I say, with Wilhiem’s Grace in flames, and reports of the Ice Kingdom destroyed, as well as Bastion and Gorhiem’s people being enslaved, the roads are clear." smirked Shek’na. "Oh, and with Death’s Hand painted on the door of the ’Great Tower’, people wouldn’t dare cross us on our way down here."
"Ah yes, now shall we get to business" Sindrak said, in what seemed a hollow almost reptilian voice,
Overcome with an unusual sense of dread Shek’na quickly looked to the ground to avoid Sindrak’s gaze any further. "Uh, uh, uh ya....here ya go, just as you asked, the head of the Grandmaster of the Paladins." Shek’na pulled out her rucksack and dropped the head of the former Grandmaster on the ground.
"YOU DARE SOIL REMAINS LIKE THIS!!!!" screamed Sindrak at the top of his lungs.
Shrinking down trying to make herself smaller, Shek’na quickly uttered an apology "I’m sorry, deeply sorry sir."
"Watz the big deal, Sin, the damn bastard is dead and gone." grunted Gor’huk.
"THE BIG DEAL? The big deal Gor’huk is that this was the Grandmaster of the Knights of Light, better known as Paladins, and yes while they have all been culled, there is still great power within this man’s head, Wilhiem still guards it." explained Sindrak. "Thankfully, due to your daughter and her clans’ actions, Kal’Thes the power is slowly weakening, and once it’s gone..."
"The glory will belong to Great Gor’krak, father of all Orkin!!" interrupted Gor’huk with a grin so big, Shek’na thought, that his oversized canines would get stuck in his nose.
"That’s where you are wrong Gor’huk, the glory obviously will go to the Lady of Darkness, and mother to the dark elves, Skelnesh." said Kal’thes rather haughtily. "Without Light, Darkness Reigns. Or have you forgotten our ancient hymn already?"
"I ferget nuthin, lil elf" roared Gor’huk
"QUITE!!!" yelled Sindrak, and it seemed that his body grew immensely bigger with his rage. "You peons know nothing of power! Yes Kal’thes your Lady will have a firmer grip with Wilhiem out of the picture. And I’m sure you future victories will give Gor’krak great pride Gor’huk. But need I remind you that it is Draconis, the father of all dragons and dragonkin, that you begged for help in your plan to rid this world of humans? Thanks to your efforts Shek’na any remaining humans will be shunned by their former allies, already the high elves of Silventanesh are banishing their human workers off their lands. And the dwarves of Thagmire are closing their doors to any human refugees. They are without friends and with many enemies, it is only a matter of time before they are completely snuffed out."
"Do they all need to be killed though?" asked Shek’na quietly
Together, the three men in front of her turned to look at her like she was a mental child that just rolled around in pig shit. "Hear me out" Shek’na pleaded. "If we keep a small amount of them alive, our races would have a slave labor force to do our bidding for us. And when the time comes for us to attack the dwarves and high elves, we could use a human force first, to weaken and confuse our enemies."
"Dat child is..." started Gor’huk
"Brilliant!" interrupted her father "I knew you got my strategic brains as well as brutality."
"An interesting plan my dear girl, very interesting, one I will have to communicate with my people. The fate of the remaining humans will be decided when the Council of Destroyer’s convenes in a fortnight. Kal’thes take your daughter back home with you to Dark Hold and inform your people on what has transpired. Gor’huk head back to Ork’ra and make ready your war parties. “I" as he said this he threw the severed head of the Grandmaster into the air, and out of nowhere a fireball shot out of his mouth, vaporizing the head instantly. "Will go back to the Dragon’s Maw and discus the fate of this world with my kind."
As he finished this thought, the robes around his body seemed to meld into his skin. He grew twice, then three times, and then even bigger than what he was mere minutes before. And then standing before the orc and the two elves, and a ferocious yet majestic ruby red dragon, with solid white eyes. "A fortnight" it bellowed as it took off, strafing the already burning city with even more flames, as he flew off to the distant mountain range in the west.
"Can’t believe we’re trusting dragons" said Shek’na once the great beast was out of view.
"I conquer my daughter, but they promised us supreme power, if we helped them with the Paladin menace."
"Would ya two shud yup." bellowed the orc. "I’m enjoying watching this city burn."
"Guess they named it correctly, Solitude. With no allies to stop their enemies, and confusing their allies for enemies, they ended up being all alone." remarked Shek’na as she and her father turned to join Gor’huk to watch the fires tear through the city, and to listen to the people scream in agony as the war bands of orcs and ogres tore through the streets.
The cries of these betrayers carried on long into the night, until their city was nothing but destroyed buildings, burning rubble, and enslaved humans. They lucky ones, as they would be later called by their captured brethren, had died the previous day.
Four Hundred Years Later
Chapter One
Ambush on the Road
"Hurry up boy!" his father yelled, "Yer gonna be left behind if ya don’t, and then I’ll have to beat some sense into you whenever you do make home." He was a tall man, with greying hair and beard, the brown it used to be was slowly fading away. Years of hard work cutting down trees had left his arms very muscular, but dealing with the goblin overseers had left him with a bad temper and irritable.
"Oh give it a rest Trace," his mother, a plain woman with a nice heart said. "He’s yer son, treat ’im like it." She had lived her life as a farmer’s daughter living in the fertile land slightly north of Wilhiem’s Grace, and much like her husband, had to deal with the rough and brutal ways of the goblin overseers. "Lucky for everyone" she had always said, "the orcs and dark elves left us to the goblins, or we might all have been killed."
"But Bracken dear," she called back, "do hurry up, we don’t want to lose the caravan, and I would like to get home before dark."
"I’m comin’, I’m comin’." Said the young man, his sixteenth year had just past. He was taller than his father if only by a hair. His shoulder length brown hair was tied back in a ponytail to keep it out of his face, and his dark green eyes had a vibrancy and wisdom to them that belied his age. "I saw a couple of rabbits back on that last bend and took a shot with them with my bow, but I missed and had to run back."
"We already have food, anymore and they’ll take it away from us." called back his father.
They were on their way back to Wilhiem’s Grace after spending the last few weeks cutting down trees and collecting wood, with the other woodcutters and their families. The wood would be used in everything from house and stable making, to sending it south to the orc war bands so they can make more war machines in their war with the elves of the river lands. The city, once great now dilapidated and in disrepair, was in sight, they would make it to the gates before sunset. The city walls were still a majestic granite, but inside much had changed since the Culling, buildings and houses had never been repaired or rebuilt after the sacking, some four centuries prior, and the mighty tower that once housed the Paladins, half its side had caved in and was blackened by the great fires that the Death’s Hand had set on it, stood by itself, fearing that it was haunted and a bad omen, nobody had settled near it, and gave it a wide berth whenever walking in its direction.
As he caught up to the rear of the caravan, where his parents were, Bracken looked around the surrounding woods. "Why didn’t we just cut these down?" he asked, "They are right next to the city after all."
"Are you mad!" yelled his father, "These woods belong to centaurs and the wood elves, they eat you alive if you even step foot off of the trail and into these woods."
"Oh come off it Trace," argued his mother, "we don’t cut these tress down because they are so close to home, they provide food in the way of deer and rabbits, and if we cut them down we’d have to go farther out to look for food."
"Oh," said Bracken, "I never really thought about it that way."
They walked along the road in silence to another half hour or so, when the silence was broken by “HARRRRROOOOO" the blood cutting sound of an orc hunting horn.
"Orcs?!?!" questioned his father, "This far north? They must have come to check on the progress the farms are making."
"HARRRRRROOOO" it blasted again, this time it sounded as if it were getting closer to their place on the road.
Panic started to set into the entire caravan, people were looking over their shoulder in every direction of the surrounding forest trying to set eyes on the approaching orcs.
"HARRRRRRRROOOOOOO" it bellowed once again, and this time it sounded as if were on top of them.
Women and children alike started to cry and wail hysterically. "Everyone calm down." said their Forman, "We all know that the orcs and goblins work together, plus we’re their work force, there’s no way that they’d even think of hurti......." the rest of his speech went unfinished as a wicked looking Orc arrow pierced his neck and silenced him.
The spray of blood from the wound painted a nearby wagon a bright red. Bracken was frozen in fear, he had never seen a man killed before. As he stood there petrified, a cloud of Orc arrows blocked out the sun and rained down upon the caravan. After what seemed like a lifetime standing in place, Bracken finally came back to his senses, and rolled for cover under a wagon, as the storm of arrows found there home in the poor individuals of the caravan company.
Screams of all kinds echoed from the wood, men and women dying to protect their children. Some thought to seek cover in the safety of the woods. That would soon prove to be a grave misjudgment. As Bracken lay in the mud completely still, he heard the footfalls coming towards him on all sides, he then realized the rain of arrows was just to scare everyone into the woods.
He could faintly make out the orcs talking amongst one another in their guttural language, but he also heard what sounded like a human begging for his life. “Please, just take it all, it yours, just don’t kill me.” The voice was saying, and to Bracken it sounded oddly familiar. The group of orcs and the man came to a stop next to the wagon Bracken was under, and he could hear the group arguing amongst themselves. The man was knocked down to the ground, Bracken instantly recognized him as the caravan leader, and his eye looked into Bracken’s. “B-b-boy,” the man started to whisper, and Bracken was at ease understanding the old man would protect him. “There’s a boy down here.” the old man started to say louder, and Bracken knew that the end had to be near.
An orc picked up the old man, and in his harsh basic asked “Wat deed you say?”
“Th-th-there’s a b-b-b-boy” the old man started to stammer.
“Out wit’ it” another orc demanded and punched the old man in the stomach, Bracken heard the sound of some of the old man’s ribs breaking with the severity of the orc’s strength.
“There’s a boy, under the wag…” the man never finished his thought, as an arrow imbedded itself into the man’s heart.
The orcs started to yell and curse in their own language, underneath the wagon Bracken had no idea what had happened or what would happen next. Then suddenly the woods erupted with horns and calls he had never heard before, and it appeared neither had the orcs.
“BAAAAARRRROOOOOO” the soft, majestic call came from the woods, completely different than the orcs war horns. There was another sound also, one Bracken could only liken to that of horses running through grass.
The orcs apparently heard it too, they drew their wicked looking hard forged swords ready for a battle. Grunting and howling the orcs readied themselves, but it didn’t matter, they fell as soon as the first arrows came out of the woods. As Bracken lay in the mud he saw orc after or fall, with arrows imbedded in their bodies. But unlike the orcs arrows, whose were fletched with black feathers of the carrion eaters in the south, these were fletched with eagle feathers, something he only heard of in stories.
The battle lasted no longer than five minutes, with the invading orcs all killed Bracken remained in his spot, too scared to meet those that could kill orcs.
Then they came, out of the forest he heard the hooves first, never seeing the riders. They came to a stop near Bracken’s wagon.
“They stink something fierce, don’t they?” one of the riders asked the other.
“Aye, they do,” answered the second. “Almost as bad as the orcs.”
“You can come out now boy.” said the first rider, “They’re all dead, or running for the south.” As Bracken started to move out from under the carriage, he kept his eyes down, worried about what he was about to find. As he came out from under the wagon, he was facing the way the caravan was heading. Torn apart and broken, no other wagon was in one piece, as he turned to his left to look at his wagon, he saw that even it wasn’t spared the orcs wrath. The wood was splintered and there was visible signs that the mules had been attacked as well, their whereabouts were nowhere to be seen. As he turned to see his rescuers, he froze.
There, standing before him, were creatures of myth. No one had seen the creatures in over 400 years, since the Falling. He started to weep, and the absolute beauty of the creatures, but the centaurs just laughed.
“Typical mortals.” said one the other, “They think that since we prefer our isolation, that we’re mere fairy tales.”
“Give the child a break,” said a voice from the tress.
The voice belonged to a figure that nimbly, and gracefully jumped out of the trees. As the figure landed, Bracken noticed the tight fitting leather and the daggers in the figures boots. Strapped to its back was an elegantly made short bow, which Bracken thought was used to kill most if not all of the orcs. As the figure stood up, Bracken was shocked by the mane of blonde hair that was whipped in his face. As the figure stood up, Bracken noticed the pointed ears first, then the almond shaped brown eyes. The wood elf stood no taller than Bracken, although Bracken had many more years to grow.