Arrival
The morning was hot. It was before sunrise, the rays of light hadn’t even split the horizon. The air was dry. Conrad awoke in a flood of sweat though. This was unnatural. He was about ten miles from the castle’s ruins. He had spent weeks getting around the world, getting to this hellish pit where the journey first begun. His father’s words echoed in his mind.
“Everything that has a beginning has an end, son.”
Kano was long gone. His bones were buried in the ground somewhere outside his homeland, what was left of it. For twenty years there had been a war tearing the world apart. Only that Garland had been in control the entire time. In most wars, leaders are lost on both sides. Garland was different. He had wiped out all those who stood in his path, sooner or later. Kingdoms fell under his might. And every time it seemed that he was about to fall, Garland would play another trump card. The deck was stacked in his favor. Kano had stood against Garland’s oppression, so had Conrad’s mother. Now both were dead. Conrad didn’t want to follow. He rolled to his side and looked across the field in which he was resting. He couldn’t make out Kendor Castle, not at this hour. He rolled over to his stomach now and put his hands on the dry, brittle dirt. He pushed himself up and dusted his armor off. He turned towards the river, knelt and scooped up two handfuls of water. Instantly he dropped the water. It was hot. Not just hot, it was liquid fire. Conrad rubbed his hands in the grass trying to cool them off. The day was fresh with oddities.
“More to come,” Conrad began, “I’d suppose.”
One could wonder where the others were. If there were already at the castle, if they were in combat, or already dead. Conrad shook the thought out of his head. The others didn’t matter. He was there for Garland. This war was between the two of them. The world, the people, his friends, none of that was of any consequence. Conrad had traveled halfway across the world to protect the only thing in his life that meant a damn. He turned back toward the castle. The moon was starting to set. Sweat beads trickled down Conrad’s nose. He blinked the salty drops from his eyes. Conrad walked toward the camp and snatched his sword without stopping. Everything there could be left, it was no longer needed. He began to sprint. Kicking up dirt as he went. His foot would brace against a rock and spring off. The running caused a small flow of wind to slowly begin to dry him off. Not that it mattered. Now saw the sky in the east beginning to grow violet. Dawn approached. He didn’t have much time. He began to run faster. His heart picking up pace, pumping harder. The heat was draining. Yet he ran on. There was no time to waste. Come dawn the war would end, whether or not he was there. Then the battle began. Conrad was in midair, jumping across a small patch of boulders, when he saw them. The balls of his feet hit the gravel and shot little stones across the way as he skidded to a stop. There were only two of them; both were humans, still alive. They were sweating just as much as Conrad. The gravel being knocked across other rocks caused them to turn towards him. They were already prepared.
“Expecting someone?” Conrad asked
The said not a word, only took precautious steps towards him. Conrad knew by the way they held their swords there were novices at best. Flies against an eagle. Conrad didn’t even draw his blade. The first charged so Conrad kicked a few rocks into his face and leapt at him. Conrad spun around and backed into the first boy. The second was just readying himself to strike as Conrad brought his elbow back into the first’s rib cage. Seizing the young man’s wrist and spinning with him Conrad caused him to throw his own sword into his friend. The blade was perfectly balanced. It flew straight and drove itself through the second’s left lung. There wasn’t a scream; the boy just slumped as Conrad pulled the first over his shoulder with an arm drag. The young man’s back slammed hard against the solid ground. The Boy’s body gave more then the earth. Conrad still held the boy’s wrist and proceeded to kick him in the side of the head, full force. A soft crack fell silent on the dry dawn as the first soldier died.
“Fools’ Conrad cursed them under his breath and looked back, and squinted against the sunrise. His heart sank. The sun, it was black. The light cast off it was purple. The morning was as black as sack cloth.
“This is no day. This is the day.” Conrad muttered to himself.
He closed his eyes and remembered that solemn day. It was well over a year ago. That dark night where his father told him the story of his mother’s death. The Night Conrad and his sister were born. Kano had chased Garland till the dawn. Till Garland turned abruptly and faced his enemy. Garland had whispered the words on the wind. The breeze carried it to his father who was ready to fight. But in a flash Garland was gone. The words drifted to his father. “The day is yet to come my friend. You’ll know it when it comes.”
Conrad knew what this meant. The dawn was death itself. Not just for him, but for everyone else. Children used to sing songs about a man in the moon. This time, there was a face cast against the sun. He broke into a run again. There wasn’t much time left. He was three miles away now. No time to spare. The castle had one light glowing in it, the main hall. Conrad couldn’t access it from the side he was coming in. He had to cut through the graveyard. He crossed the dead land and entered the vein ridden hell hole. Up ahead were stairs. Conrad could hear voices he drew his sword. This time it was no warm up.
Seven men stood at the base of the stairs. Each was one of the last remnants of Garland’s army, young and virile. They heard footsteps crunching dead leaves. Eyes darted to and fro looking through the passageways and towards the stairwell. They couldn’t see anyone. One touched another on the shoulder.
“No one is there man.”
Conrad took another step. Now there was a wind ripping against the wall. The last thing his father taught him. Merging with your affinity. The wind rustled and blew straight down the stairwell. The soldiers turned just in time for the gust to blast them in the eyes. Dust and dirt blinded them. Conrad walked into their view. Yet none saw him, they never even heard him. Conrad raised his sword high and walked to the nearest one. His hair was no longer brown and curly; it was white, and straight. He looked like his father. He brought the blade down, swiftly. The cut was deep blood splurged. He screamed. That was the last thing he ever did. Conrad walked past him as he crumpled. No remorse. They all had to die. A year ago this wouldn’t have happened, they could have lived. The naivety was gone. Death was life, life is death. Conrad knew this now, in war you killed. This was a war. This was the final battle. If they lived there might be another one tomorrow. Conrad relinquished his left hand from his sword, turned the blade back in his right, and brought it to his right side. The second soldier took the thrust in the side of his neck. Conrad grabbed the hilt with his left and slung the sword to his left. The third was cut down. The next slash cut neatly through the belly of the fourth. Blood and fluid spewed forth. By now the final three had wiped their eyes clean. They looked up at the deity facing them. Conrad was ready to fight. They were not. He leapt, driving his sword down onto the first’s axe handle. The head was drug down as Conrad ran up the handle. And kicked him in the face, coming down foot first with the boy’s head beneath it. The crunch was satisfying. The other two were pike men. These weren’t ordinary soldiers. Conrad knew they were doormen. Conrad parried the first jab and rolled over the shaft as the dragoon brought his spear up. He lost his grip, but before Conrad could land a killing blow the second rushed and tried to thrust his trident into Conrad’s face. However Conrad tipped the end up with his hilt and lunged in with a simple slice to the throat, turned and heaved his blade into the face of the final man standing. Both toppled onto their backs as Conrad walked past them, gripped his hilt, and pulled up without pausing. He walked under the archway into the courtyard. Now there was only one door remaining. Conrad walked on.
“Everything that has a beginning has an end, son.”
Kano was long gone. His bones were buried in the ground somewhere outside his homeland, what was left of it. For twenty years there had been a war tearing the world apart. Only that Garland had been in control the entire time. In most wars, leaders are lost on both sides. Garland was different. He had wiped out all those who stood in his path, sooner or later. Kingdoms fell under his might. And every time it seemed that he was about to fall, Garland would play another trump card. The deck was stacked in his favor. Kano had stood against Garland’s oppression, so had Conrad’s mother. Now both were dead. Conrad didn’t want to follow. He rolled to his side and looked across the field in which he was resting. He couldn’t make out Kendor Castle, not at this hour. He rolled over to his stomach now and put his hands on the dry, brittle dirt. He pushed himself up and dusted his armor off. He turned towards the river, knelt and scooped up two handfuls of water. Instantly he dropped the water. It was hot. Not just hot, it was liquid fire. Conrad rubbed his hands in the grass trying to cool them off. The day was fresh with oddities.
“More to come,” Conrad began, “I’d suppose.”
One could wonder where the others were. If there were already at the castle, if they were in combat, or already dead. Conrad shook the thought out of his head. The others didn’t matter. He was there for Garland. This war was between the two of them. The world, the people, his friends, none of that was of any consequence. Conrad had traveled halfway across the world to protect the only thing in his life that meant a damn. He turned back toward the castle. The moon was starting to set. Sweat beads trickled down Conrad’s nose. He blinked the salty drops from his eyes. Conrad walked toward the camp and snatched his sword without stopping. Everything there could be left, it was no longer needed. He began to sprint. Kicking up dirt as he went. His foot would brace against a rock and spring off. The running caused a small flow of wind to slowly begin to dry him off. Not that it mattered. Now saw the sky in the east beginning to grow violet. Dawn approached. He didn’t have much time. He began to run faster. His heart picking up pace, pumping harder. The heat was draining. Yet he ran on. There was no time to waste. Come dawn the war would end, whether or not he was there. Then the battle began. Conrad was in midair, jumping across a small patch of boulders, when he saw them. The balls of his feet hit the gravel and shot little stones across the way as he skidded to a stop. There were only two of them; both were humans, still alive. They were sweating just as much as Conrad. The gravel being knocked across other rocks caused them to turn towards him. They were already prepared.
“Expecting someone?” Conrad asked
The said not a word, only took precautious steps towards him. Conrad knew by the way they held their swords there were novices at best. Flies against an eagle. Conrad didn’t even draw his blade. The first charged so Conrad kicked a few rocks into his face and leapt at him. Conrad spun around and backed into the first boy. The second was just readying himself to strike as Conrad brought his elbow back into the first’s rib cage. Seizing the young man’s wrist and spinning with him Conrad caused him to throw his own sword into his friend. The blade was perfectly balanced. It flew straight and drove itself through the second’s left lung. There wasn’t a scream; the boy just slumped as Conrad pulled the first over his shoulder with an arm drag. The young man’s back slammed hard against the solid ground. The Boy’s body gave more then the earth. Conrad still held the boy’s wrist and proceeded to kick him in the side of the head, full force. A soft crack fell silent on the dry dawn as the first soldier died.
“Fools’ Conrad cursed them under his breath and looked back, and squinted against the sunrise. His heart sank. The sun, it was black. The light cast off it was purple. The morning was as black as sack cloth.
“This is no day. This is the day.” Conrad muttered to himself.
He closed his eyes and remembered that solemn day. It was well over a year ago. That dark night where his father told him the story of his mother’s death. The Night Conrad and his sister were born. Kano had chased Garland till the dawn. Till Garland turned abruptly and faced his enemy. Garland had whispered the words on the wind. The breeze carried it to his father who was ready to fight. But in a flash Garland was gone. The words drifted to his father. “The day is yet to come my friend. You’ll know it when it comes.”
Conrad knew what this meant. The dawn was death itself. Not just for him, but for everyone else. Children used to sing songs about a man in the moon. This time, there was a face cast against the sun. He broke into a run again. There wasn’t much time left. He was three miles away now. No time to spare. The castle had one light glowing in it, the main hall. Conrad couldn’t access it from the side he was coming in. He had to cut through the graveyard. He crossed the dead land and entered the vein ridden hell hole. Up ahead were stairs. Conrad could hear voices he drew his sword. This time it was no warm up.
Seven men stood at the base of the stairs. Each was one of the last remnants of Garland’s army, young and virile. They heard footsteps crunching dead leaves. Eyes darted to and fro looking through the passageways and towards the stairwell. They couldn’t see anyone. One touched another on the shoulder.
“No one is there man.”
Conrad took another step. Now there was a wind ripping against the wall. The last thing his father taught him. Merging with your affinity. The wind rustled and blew straight down the stairwell. The soldiers turned just in time for the gust to blast them in the eyes. Dust and dirt blinded them. Conrad walked into their view. Yet none saw him, they never even heard him. Conrad raised his sword high and walked to the nearest one. His hair was no longer brown and curly; it was white, and straight. He looked like his father. He brought the blade down, swiftly. The cut was deep blood splurged. He screamed. That was the last thing he ever did. Conrad walked past him as he crumpled. No remorse. They all had to die. A year ago this wouldn’t have happened, they could have lived. The naivety was gone. Death was life, life is death. Conrad knew this now, in war you killed. This was a war. This was the final battle. If they lived there might be another one tomorrow. Conrad relinquished his left hand from his sword, turned the blade back in his right, and brought it to his right side. The second soldier took the thrust in the side of his neck. Conrad grabbed the hilt with his left and slung the sword to his left. The third was cut down. The next slash cut neatly through the belly of the fourth. Blood and fluid spewed forth. By now the final three had wiped their eyes clean. They looked up at the deity facing them. Conrad was ready to fight. They were not. He leapt, driving his sword down onto the first’s axe handle. The head was drug down as Conrad ran up the handle. And kicked him in the face, coming down foot first with the boy’s head beneath it. The crunch was satisfying. The other two were pike men. These weren’t ordinary soldiers. Conrad knew they were doormen. Conrad parried the first jab and rolled over the shaft as the dragoon brought his spear up. He lost his grip, but before Conrad could land a killing blow the second rushed and tried to thrust his trident into Conrad’s face. However Conrad tipped the end up with his hilt and lunged in with a simple slice to the throat, turned and heaved his blade into the face of the final man standing. Both toppled onto their backs as Conrad walked past them, gripped his hilt, and pulled up without pausing. He walked under the archway into the courtyard. Now there was only one door remaining. Conrad walked on.