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Midviel: Solicitude posted 16 Feb 2006, 01:02 by Xesaniel, Commoner

The following is a short bit of a story I'm working on called Midviel: Solicitude. It's on a first run by right now. I like sharing as I go though so I share now with you all. --- Metal clashing with metal resounded from the battle field. Many lay dead. Even more lay suffering wounds, most were mortal. The Dhimpier warriors massed against the falling arcane followers of the Murhabi. Explosions fired from the fingertips of the brethren sent hundreds upon hundreds of dead metal clad beasts from their place atop a rather steep hill. The supposed leader stood at the top of the hill with his black mount behind him. He wore a robe of the arcane Murhabi. Black cloth of highest quality drenched over in blood and sweat hung from his shoulders. The gold that had trimmed the robe now glowed dully in the sun. "We stand here! Make our line, sing our songs!" The man commanded the rest of the group. There were near one hundred men in black on top of the hill. He stretched his arm out to the sky above and cried loud for the song of Dhantkil. Their song rang true and their tongues dripped liquid fire on their opponents. The flames burst all around the warriors that stumbled up the steep hill. The men closest to the wizards fell first and quietest. It would be heard for days to come the screams of the burned survivors. The survivors all died beit by their burn wounds, or scavengers. But, here and now, the battle waged on. The Dhantkil song ending and the Aquinotol chant began. A great pressure began to build under the earth. From it rose stone men. Each the size of at least twenty full grown Dhimpier warrior-men. Fists of stone crushed the near warrior armor and bodies. Victory was at hand. Of all the Dhimpier to approach none rose to the top of the hill. All fell from the songs of the Wizardry of the Murhabi. Dusk finally set and the men from the hill slipped away as the last of the Dhimpier men fell to their knees in death or mortal blow. After a day long battle their voices all croaked and cracked at the mere mention of words. They filled the forward camp they had made a far distance from their home city. The Murhabi city had fallen days before to the Dhimpier. Xalto knew this and prepared for a quick retreat to Apis city. The camp was silent. The outside world barely penetrated the strained wizards. The half moon sat low in the sky by the time the last of the men had fallen asleep. An hour or so before daybreak a man appeared in the archway of the tent belonging to Xalto."Scouts on the front say more come, we must leave." The teacher turned to leave, but stopped."You know I am no fool, or coward. I stood beside you on the front of that hill. I say we leave because we must." He could see the dismay and sleep in the man's face. "Hurry. I've roused your commanders." With that he left and vanished quickly in the night to rouse more men. Xalto sat alone in the dark. "More?" His tired bones pushed him from his mat on the freezing ground. He hadn't slept well. It had been confirmed, he could hear the shouts of thousands upon thousands of warrior beasts. From the door he flew, half dressed pulling on whatever he could. His mind on the boy. "Dru." He spun around the corner and came to a rather pathetic looking makeshift tent. "Dru." He ducked down and entered. His boot kicked at the boy's leg. The boy woke. The boy sat up on his mat on the hard cold earth. How did they sleep on these things anyway? He could hear the cries as he snapped to. "Dru. We are to flee from here. Get prepared, we leave within ten minutes." The boy nodded dumbly and the man left. What was that smell? He stood and pulled on his bloodied tunic from the day before. Why did they come again? They'd be defeated. "Poor fools." He stopped and slapped himself. "Not poor, stupid. They are stupid. Stupid for even Dhimpier warriors." His form left the broken down tent. He could see the smoke in the thick air as he left his tent. The other tents around him were on fire. He was thrust a torch. He stared at it puzzled for a moment. The chaos around helping him to decide to do the same and burn his own tent. Why were they doing this, he wondered as he set his tent aflame. Surely, this would slow the Dhimpier further. Surely it would! He watched for a moment as his tent, as all others, burned. From a distance he could see two horsemen approaching. He could hear the clink and clank of the warhorses as they traveled along at a respectable speed. His eyes gazed at the nearing man on a horse, he couldn't make out who or what it was. From behind he was grasped. He jumped in fright. He screamed, but was gagged with a hand. He spat at the sickening taste. He was pulled back behind the tent and one man rode, two horses traveled. The man had a rather large arrow going through his chest. "A scout." He understood now, they had brought archers this time. They knew the tactics of the Murhabi now, they would leave no chance. They must run! "Quiet, and low we must move to the waiting line. We have horses there and we can travel." The tent burned beside the men. Xalto stood low behind Dru. "We must hurry. They come to flank us." Xalto turned quickly and motioned for Dru to follow silently. They would travel a long distance to a short destination. The pillars of flames all around blocked their progress many times. But they knew that if they were having such a hard time it was only true that so too the Dhimpier's progress would be blocked. They neared the line. A moment later they were climbing on their individual horses. Xalto and Dru each on black mounts. Dru pushed his mount quickly away from the flames. His inexperience slowed his progress. By the time he had progressed the others were a full ten paces at least ahead of him. He frowned but somehow managed to find Xalto amiss the chaos of his kin. "Xalto, we cannot escape the flames. We'll all die!" The young boy spoke loud, as he neared the teacher. He spat on the ground. His eyes shut tight as the haze of smoke fell upon them. The heat was hot on his back. he could hear the fire roar, and the men scream as they were burned to death in the inferno. "Ride Dru! Just ride. We all know not all of us will If one of us doesn't make it out our tribe will be taken from the face of Midviel!" Xalto cried out with the last words he'd speak. A moment later he was engulfed in the fire. He rode, oh how did he ride, his horse carried them out of the haze and into an open field. Far as the eye could see there was nothing. Green grass on the ground, deep purple skies above. Not a cloud. He rode out a slight bit farther. Her wiped at his smoke burned eyes. They opened to watch the breeze on the ground as it blew the grass to the side. "Run, Olh run." The ground blurred as the boy and his mount sped off from the blaze behind them. "If we outrun their scouts they will think all the survivors died in the blaze." Olh carried them away. view post


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