Archon of Strife: Segment Five

Kael clearly loomed his foreleg directly in the charger's path, arms up to the right so that the katana slanted horizontally across his chest, waiting in defense of a vertical blow. His mind had somehow blanked out, perhaps from trauma, perhaps from adrenaline. The man came barreling towards him, closer and closer. It seemed everyone else had momentarily stopped to witness what would happen, none able to reach him, whether to harm or help. Then when he came precariously close, Kael faked a quick lunge forward, gambling that his assailant would flinch - he didn't. In an instant he was breathably close, and Kael stepped back his front leg, spinning to the side. As he came full circle the man was right beside him, and with the momentum of his spin Kael continued right into a downward stroke, cleanly cleaving the man in half. Time stopped then. The upper body flew several feet forward as the lower dragged another foot on the ground, and Kael strangely froze after completing the stroke, blood icing the blade. If nothing had happened, the fight would have undoubtedly continued, but the gruesome sight somehow affected everyone in a terrifying way. Kael turned limply, arms and katana hanging loosely from his body, and searched each and every face for answers. Mournfully, almost disgustingly, every face was just as impassive or dumbstruck as his own psyche felt.

"Kael," Katrina whispered, then screamed and dashed off. Instead of following her, the intruders turned their attention to the newest clamor; more of their allies had arrived on horseback, in the middle a raven-haired woman with knives strapped across her chest. She signaled a flanking maneuver of the score or so of riders as the beast that had aided the townsfolk grunted and roared. The ten men that had come out with makeshift weapons now backed toward the well, a house, or anything to reduce attack area whilst screams of carnage resounded throughout the village. It was obvious then that there was large-scale infiltration judging from smoke throughout the sky. As metal began clashing again, Kael shuddered and ran blindly away. He stumbled through a crowd with pitchforks and assorted tools, some grabbing him and asking him what was going on. Then they laid eyes on the minotaur, and Kael's stomach turned as new cries came to his ears.

"Look! That beast is doing this!"

"Yeah, it's the devil leading all these bastards!"

"Hurry we have to kill it!"

Kael seized one of the shouters and raspily beseeched him, "No! He's helping, don't hurt him!"

"Quiet kid," the man spat back, "Go find your family."

The man surged on with the crowd, leaving Kael to stare ahead dumbfoundedly and resist the shoves of on comers. After a moment more of disbelief and incredulity, staring at the smoke in the sky, Kael turned and started running again. It was one thing he was good at, and one thing that had never hurt him like this day had. He ran fifty yards ahead, panicked at the sights worse than what he had left, and then sprinted off into the woods. All there was left to do now was run.

Still, as he ran first to the neighbor’s storeroom to quickly gather supplies, and then past several more people engaged in brawls on his way straight into the woods, Kael couldn’t shake the vivid images from the previous fifteen minutes dancing through his mind like marionettes. Ten men ranging from twenty to forty years old had come to Kael and Katrina’s aid, ready to fight the thieves in the town square. But they did well for only a minute before more bandits on horseback came from all directions – most likely scouting the perimeter when the townsfolk came at their commander. During this Katrina came to and freed Kael, who then took her inside the inn to hide and watch from the window. It was there they would have both remained during the conflict if the beast from the night before hadn’t shown up.

Just as the men in the town square were being overpowered, a roar came from the forest and the giant bovine creature emerged with its axe gleaming in the morning sun and its eyes eerily red despite there being no darkness to make them stand out. Somehow this prompted Kael to act; sure he was bruised and beaten, exhausted and exasperated, but he couldn’t shake an indignant fury that had arisen when he saw Katrina lying there unconscious. Nothing like this should ever happen to anyone, he thought. And with a final look at his step-sister he paced to the fireplace and removed an exotic sword, a katana, from the mantle and began determinedly toward the door. Katrina followed him to the door, pulling at his arm and desperately attempting to deter this sudden impulse.

"Please, Kael! Let them handle it! Look at your side and your leg, you’re bleeding! Don’t you get it – those men were going to kill you! You can’t go back out there - we don’t even know what’s going on here! But despite this Kael continued, leaving Katrina at the door.

"You can’t just destroy my lif-" he began to yell in a still-raspy voice as he stepped challengingly out toward the other side of the town square where the minotaur was viciously swinging its weapon at nearby foes. But the sight abruptly forced Kael to strike upon an epiphany. Those foes weren’t his neighbors and acquaintances, but the bandits. Kael suddenly realized that the beast had never done anything but save him as it was trying to now. What happened the night before suddenly made sense and Kael looked at the sword in his hand, realizing how much Katrina was right as well. "What really is going on here?" He said aloud.

"Kael! Look out!" His step-sister’s voice shattered his brief reverie of comprehension and forced him to wildly turn his head around in surprise. First to his left – where nothing immediately dangerous awaited him; on his right, however, was a man running right at him, ready to kill.

In reality Kael shook his head several times in an attempt to drive out the images. He shouldered the pack filled with impromptu supplies that he had pressed to his chest and drove harder into the woods. The harder he ran, the less he had to think.

Kael continued to run until succumbing to exhaustion at nightfall. He had gradually slowed to a jog throughout the day and by the end of the evening he was trotting along in a stupor, seeming as if a long-term mental shock had taken hold of his mind. As he tripped on a particularly treacherous patch of rocks, Kael finally took real awareness again. He lay on the ground for several minutes debating what to do, too tired to move. Surely he couldn’t head back to the town, for even if it hadn’t been burned to the ground he couldn’t face anyone again after they had seen him brutally slay that man. And what if things hadn’t turned out in the militia’s favor? What if thugs and bandits now waited sentry and would be waiting to kill him on sight? Kael coughed several times and moaned as he came to his feet, and then set about making a fire. After lying still except for his heavy breathing for several minutes, his sweat had evaporated and his body temperature had dropped. Now without heavy labor to generate heat his body felt how cold the night was and demanded remedy. For this Kael collected what sticks and debris he could and used flint from his pack to strike a fire. Then he sat by it and shivered against the night air while it grew, thinking of what else he could possibly do now.

The fire flickered a moment as Kael heaved a sigh. Bundled up and hugging his knees, he felt much more alone than he ever had been in Daldenvale. He stared into the flame to block out any images of the town, but he still felt the disgust just thinking about it.

Standing up all at once, he almost fell into the fire as a dizzy spell came upon him. Resisting the urge to vomit, his eyes came across the katana, and realization hit him where none of the day’s events had. "I… killed somebody." His body felt like a miserable shell, pitifully trapping the now tainted mind and soul. "What will I do? Oh god what can I do?" No answer met Kael’s mournful tone, and all he had left was the lonely fire, inviting him to rest and release his worries. He snuggled up to it to fight the unusually chilly night, lamenting the coming nightmares.

And sure enough, they came. Screams soon pierced the silence in his mind, and once again the haunting atmosphere of that dream dominated all senses. Although similar to each and every last, the nightmare shifted with each recurrence, and this one had a more eldritch feel than any before. Kael was on a balcony and, terrifyingly due to such a large scale, carnage was all to be seen from even such a panoramic view. This wasn't included in any dream before, and this was definitely the first to take place outside the dungeon environment. As he gazed upon the blackened sky, flutters of birds – no, creatures flooded from the horizon, and it seemed things only got stranger from there. A large siege seemed to be taking place below, and he was with the besieged. Streaks of red lightning flashed in the distance, and strange sensations made themselves known to Kael. Then someone else touched his shoulder, no, someone else’s shoulder: his conscience told him he couldn't really be there. His incarnate, phantasmal host turned to greet the newcomer, and it was the same woman he knew from countless previous sessions. Once again daylight threatened to send this reality spinning back into the abyss and Kael feverishly rolled from side to side as slices of images congealed in his mind. The dungeon dominated again, the feeling of despair, and this time laughter. Sickening laughter.

Kael cringed and blindly flailed as pain seared his hand. The pain came relentlessly, seeming to taunt his much slower grasp of reality as he awoke. His left hand sported fresh burns; three were unmistakably indents of embers plus a patch of bubbled skin on his underhand. Kael stuffed his hand between his legs and rolled around in a huddled form as he cursed the nightmares, and it wasn't long before he was cursing himself for such poor judgment in sleeping arrangements. After fifteen such seconds his thoughts turned to the cool earth around him and he dug and shoveled grass and dirt with his right hand onto the other. It was all he could do to resist the impulses to flinch and resume his fetal position roll-around efforts. After several minutes and a score of deep breaths, he finally retrieved his singed hand and returned to the burned out fire.

Once again, it seemed, it was a good time to sulk. This was the manner that characterized Kael's demeanor as well for the greater part of the morning. It wasn't until he had calmed down and set off with his meager supplies that his mood changed, and he had been walking for almost two hours before it substantially lightened.

The trees were all graced by the early sunlight, and their accentuated fall colors seemed to smile down at him and share their warmth. Kael's stomach grumbled and he decided that it would be a good idea to get his bearings as best he could over a breakfast of what he'd grabbed the night before. Ravenously tearing into the bread and dried meat, he welcomed the peaceful haze and settled in a clearing while he still scrounged around his shoulder pack for more food. It seemed that he could've gone either one of two ways, seeing as he hadn't climbed in elevation. Daldenvale was one of many villages that dotted the Echo Passes bordering the Eastern Kingdom. To the West lay the Echo lands, so named for the phrase king Althenmore had said of them over ten years earlier in his settlement proclamation.

"Whoever ventures beyond the western breach of the Eastern Kingdoms is no longer subject to the royal protection bestowed upon my people. There are none who have returned thus far of their own accord, and those recovered at great expense have been naught but echoes of their former selves."

Huh, some protection, Kael thought to himself upon recalling those lines. The proclamation further outlined the barred settlement of land beyond the passes, as well as the coast near them before addressing several issues on the eastern front.

The Eastern Kingdom boasted the strongest military of the known world, closely followed by the barbaric northern tribes who, thankfully, lacked the sense to unite and remained in civil discord. The king had just recently completed several campaigns to seize the lands touching the oceanic front to the East, but one domain, the Artrasians, had received help from trading partners across the seas and made war less and less worth the effort, so the final campaign was eventually disbanded. Other than this, Kael knew little of the peoples from other continents. Katrina had babied him with tales of people with wings and others with tails, all the usual mythical stories. Once, she had described in great length folklore of small people who resided underground, actually able to permanently dwell in subterranean territory with an entirely different ecosystem. She always loved weaving such stories, and Kael eagerly bought in and listened intently for hours on end. Then Kael remembered her face from the day before, which already seemed like an eternity ago. He spat out the last bit of cheese he had found in his pack and heaved a sigh. He wanted to forget it all. Thoughts back on moving, he shouldered the pack, now only containing flint, tinder, his blanket, and crumbs, and continued his morning trudging.

Since Daldenvale was only half a day's walk from each side of the valley it was located in, which themselves took a day to ascend, he knew that he was probably headed toward the inner towns of the kingdom. That, or…Kael tried to focus on which way he'd left the village, but he wasn't thinking clearly back in the chaos and turmoil. He tried to console himself into believing he'd gone in the right direction, as much as anyone could define one as right at the time, but he couldn't really remember if he'd looped around to the other side of town or continued in his initial direction. And if he wasn't heading toward the sanctity of the empire, there was only the western land.