Tales of Erelith: The Exile (Chapter 8, Part 1)

Holden opened his eyes to find himself in a small, dark room. A single window let in sunlight that illuminated the room enough for him to see. A door stood on the opposite side of the room, with a writing station next to it. Looking down at himself, Holden pulled off the silk sheets covering his body. He was absent of everything spare his smallclothes, exposing new scars adorning his core and forearm.

It took a moment for everything to catch up to him; Rnyrt, the elves, Honler, Marius. Getting out of bed, he moved towards the door. What happened? Why was he in a bed? Where was he? Just as Holden reached for the door, it swung open. A man in white robes stood in the door frame, and Yerryn right behind him.

“His condition upon return from Rnyrt was a hair from death, it’s a blessing that--” The man paused, staring at Holden for a moment. “So, you’re awake.”

“I am,” Holden replied. And, while he did not recognize it at first, his body was sore, and the scars throbbed with pain. “What happened?”

“We were hoping you would tell us,” said Yerryn, her arms folded across her chest. Her exhaustion was evident, rendering her indifferent in emotion. “Marius came here a couple of weeks ago, carrying you to my doorstep. He refused to speak a word of what happened.”

“And you were a mess,” the man continued. “Wrapped in bloody bandages, with a fever as well!” He extended his hand towards Holden. “My apologies, where are my manners? I am Gisheld, a volunteer doctor for the On’hinian Army.

“Holden.” Holden shook Gisheld’s hand, and looked at Yerryn. “What of Honler? Is he alright?”

“He was relieved of his active duty, and was sent to the capital for advanced healing.” Yerryn tapped Gisheld’s shoulder, whom bowed his head and left the room. She closed the door behind her, as she gave Holden a demon’s stare. “Talk.”

“I was sent out on my own to find the Rnyrtian capital,” Holden explained. “At the same time, Honler took a group of Sea Tigers and went to investigate an Aradian vessel beached not far from our camp. I believe they were ambushed by the Aradians and captured.” He paused, deciding on whether or not to talk of Leucis, and the things that happened that night. If Marius opted to not say a word of it, then so would he. “I am unsure of what happened, but they twisted his mind by the time I came to save him.”

“You went alone?”

Holden nodded. “The expeditionary forces were off taking the capital. It was foolish, but I could not sit idle while every second was a roulette for his life.”

“Beyond foolish.” Yerryn turned and opened the door. “I’ll have your uniform sent up soon. When you are ready, I will train you. You’re going to be very busy, after your performance in the Rnyrtian annex.”

“Pardon?”

“Colonel Marius sent his commendation for outstanding service and valor to His Majesty. And, you’ve caught the eye of the King’s Generals. While you’re not being paraded in the streets, they sent a letter of promotion to your name. Congratulations, Sergeant Alnharte.”

While he would have been excited over such news, Yerryn’s tone was soaked with scorn. “Yerryn, you have to believe me, I did everything to the best of my ability to save him.”

“That’s why I’m training you, Holden. Because, your best is not good enough.”

***

It was midday by the time Holden stepped onto the busy streets of Perona. He ran his fingers over the new attire that adorned his body. Leather padding was concealed under a layer of hempen clothing. Over that, he wore a coat to protect against the cold bite of the Frost. The streets were blanketed in white, as snow glistened under the sunlight.

“Can we help you, Sergeant?” one of the guards stationed outside Yerryn’s office asked.

“No,” replied Holden, “I was just taking in the scenery is all.” He moved through the crowds on the streets, resting a hand on the pommel of his blade. While he left his bow behind, it was rarely ever inconvenient to remain armed. Reaching the gate to the mainland, he approached the guards at the checkpoint.

“I’ll be damned,” one of them said, “it’s Alnharte!” He waved to Holden. “I heard about how you’re the one who brought Rnyrt to its knees.”

Taken back by such an outrageous claim, Holden shook his head. “I am but a single man, not the army who stormed the capital.”

“Spoken like a true hero!”  The guard chuckled, before waving him through. “Go on, Sergeant. There’s no need to waste your time on the logging.” He grinned at Holden, and bowed his head. “May Hino watch over you.”

“Thank you,” Holden said. Though he could not deny that the whole scene filled him with pride, he also felt it was ill-obtained. He did not bring Rnyrt to its knees. It was the work of Marius, and the Sea Tigers. He would have to find Marius, later, to sort things out.

There was a sea of pure, endless white surrounding him, as he traveled along the main route. There was a silence during the Frost, that was undeniably sweet. It was natural, unlike the silence when a predator is near, or the silence found in the dead of night, or where the divine fear to tread. As a gust of cold air blew past Holden, he tightened the coat around himself.

The sun began its descent towards the horizon by the time he made it to Saul’s home. The trees were stripped bare of their vibrant leaves, and it made finding the cabin quite easy. The last time he was here, he knew little of the life Saul let. He simply lacked the exposure to understand the burden a soldier had to carry.

Approaching the cabin’s door, Holden knocked firmly. He looked about his surroundings once more, only to realize something strange. There were no other tracks around the cabin; meaning nobody left or entered in some time. As chords of curiosity and wariness were struck in his mind, Holden tested the door’s handle. Without resistance, the door swung open; unlocked. He peered into the darkness of the cabin, while his hand gripped the hilt of his sword. To say something was amiss was an understatement.

“Saul?” he called into the cabin. When he was not answered, Holden ventured into the dark home. Almost instantly, he recognized the scenery; the dinner table, the fireplace, and the window overlooking the grounds where his marksmanship was molded. The only irregularity was how everything seemed so untouched, left at the mercy of time. That, and the door to Saul’s room hung wide open. Approaching the door, Holden felt a tickle of the cold, on his neck, and turned around. The sight he saw only chilled him further.

There stood a hooded figure in the doorway, as still as stone. While the unexpected sight might have unnerved others, it was nothing compared to what Holden felt as he stared at Saul’s scornful expression.

“Of all the possible people,” Saul started, his voice filled with irrefutable disgust, “they send the closest I could call my kin.”

“Saul?” Confused, Holden took a step closer, yet quickly regained the distance as Saul drew a knife. “What are you doing? What are you talking about?”

“Did they teach you to feign honesty as well?” Saul’s words were sharp, like the dagger he pointed at Holden. “I warned you, Holden! I warned you of the price for resting amongst serpents! Do tell me, what sweetened words did they use to have you barter your own soul?”

“Barter my soul?” Still gripping the hilt of his blade, Holden tried to piece everything together. If there was a way to talk Saul down, he would find it. “I came here to visit you of my own accord, Saul.”

“Why should I trust you? You would make an excellent assassin for them, after all.”

“Is someone trying to kill you?”

There was a long moment of silence, as Saul glared at Holden. Then, he groaned, lowering his dagger. “You chose an ill time to return home,” he said, slumping against the doorway. “I’m no longer the man I was. I’m now branded as a traitor for my involvement with the resistance, and His Majesty declares that I be brought before trial.”

“So you’ve abandoned your home?”

“Aye.” Saul turned to glance outside. “The King’s Generals have vowed to bring me to justice -- they’ll see me hang.”

“How did this happen?” Holden asked. Saul was a war hero, and had he been treated as such, the accusation of being a rebel would have been laughed off.

“The King’s Generals have wanted me gone for quite some time,” Saul explained. “I know of the treachery they have committed for the gain of power. My existence stands as a threat to whatever they are conspiring to do.”

“So, you think the Generals put me to killing you.” Holden did not need to hear Saul say it. “But what will you do? You cannot hide in On’hino forever.”

“I know.” Sheathing the dagger, Saul neared Holden, and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve gone to continue this crusade in Tamef’s name. I’ll think of a way to put an end to their corruption. It is for your sake that I must refrain from explaining anything further on the matter.”

“I understand,” Holden said, “though I must ask something else.”

“Go on.” Closing the door, Saul sat down at the dinner table.

“I was sent out to Rnyrt with the expeditionary forces. Within a month, I have shed so much blood.”

“You’re feeling inhuman, aren’t you?” Saul stared at Holden with observing eyes.

“Yes. I have killed again, and again. Each time, I feel even less affected by the atrocity I commit.”

“Worry not of being unmoved by taking a life. It is mere a manner of goals. Rnyrtians are taught at a young age to reject the influence of other nations, as to preserve their brutish traditions, like sacrifice. You were taught to take two things into priority; your objective, and your own survival. Since your objective threatens the survival of their tradition, the Rnyrtians aimed to prevent both. In battle, think of killing not as a sin, but as proving your conviction to living and completing your mission.”

“Thank you.” Holden felt a great weight lifted off of his shoulders, hearing Saul say that. While he knew that he was not absolved of dealing death, he felt far less guilty of the matter. Like Tamef had told him, it was kill or be killed. “I have to ask something else.”

Saul shifted in his seat, relaxing back. “I’m all ears, Holden.”

“How do you heal someone who forfeits their hope in life?”

Saul frowned. “That is a question I prayed to never hear again.”

“Someone asked you before?”

“I asked, myself.” Sighing softly, Saul motioned for Holden to sit down. “I trust that you have heard talk of your father, and his heroics, yes?”

“I have.”

“Let me tell you of his last duty. He was no hero, then. We were assigned to patrolling the borders of Tarlmisac, to ensure that the remnants of the Umbral Horde could not escape into Siyerrod. It was a cold, dark night, and our patrol was resting at camp. Without warning, the Umbrals struck, and carved through our forces with little hindrance. Given the order to retreat, I escaped. But, your father was amongst the captured. I know not of what they had done to him, but when I managed to find him, he was laid there, a leg severed, his hands gripping the hilt of a dagger buried into his gut. He was twisting the blade, Holden; twisting it in some attempt to rid himself of whatever nightmares he suffered.

“At first, he said nothing to me. By Hino’s grace, I kept him alive, and an Onerian cleric was able to mend his physical wounds. It was a while before he spoke. But when he did, all he could say was that ‘he was broken.’ Screamed it at the top of his lungs, while he sobbed. It was the first time that I’d ever seen a man who was shattered by pain and despair, and I prayed for it to be the last. I retired from His Majesty’s Service, so that I could help heal your father. For the most part, it worked. He bought a farm away from the cities, married and started a family. However, he’ll never be what he once was.”

Holden sat in silence. Part of him could not believe Saul. He did not want to think of his father in such a pained state of living, wanting nothing but the embrace of death, awaiting nothing but the end of his days. It made sense, however. His father would not endorse Holden’s urge to join the military, and never spoke of himself as a war hero. Perhaps it was not that he was jaded; rather, he feared reliving the pains the Umbral Horde subjected him to.

“To answer your question,” Saul said, “I still await the day your father’s heart starts to beat like it used to.”

“I see,” Holden replied quietly. While he could not shed a tear on the matter, he felt his heart throb in pain. His father only wanted to protect him from ending up like him, or Honler; somewhere in Okeluiso, screaming that same thing; that he was a broken man.

“I’m afraid that I must end this conversation,” Saul said, standing up. “I doubt that the Generals will simply give up searching my cabin, and each moment I remain here bears the risk that I am discovered.”

“Understood.” While Saul made a hasty exit, Holden remained in his seat. The door was left open, letting the cold air flood into the room. He had left his home, and endured the harsh conditions of his duty, only to return and find everything discomposed. He failed Yerryn, Honler was the victim of some unholy agony within, Saul was a hunted man, and his father was merely a collection of broken pieces.

But, he could not turn back. Everything in his wake was a shattered image of its former self. The only path was the one before him. For better or worse, he would have to walk the path he chose.

***

“There he is!” The guard at the checkpoint grinned, though it was hard to tell. The nights during the Frost were very dark. “Welcome back, Sergeant. You wouldn’t believe what happened while you were away.”

“I haven’t the time to guess,” Holden replied. His tone would have been enough to send away most people, but the guard carried on, perhaps out of solely respect.

“Colonel Marius received word of your recovery, and came to Perona in search of you. He told us to inform you that he will be waiting at Lieutenant Yerryn’s quarters for your return.” The guard stepped aside for Holden. “It’s not wise to keep a man as fierce as a lion waiting, Sergeant.”

“Right.” Proceeding through the checkpoint, Holden paused for a moment to take in the sight of Perona. Past the harbor, an endless expanse of black collided with the celestial heavens, the beauty and glory above merging with the sea of uncertainty below. Would his path lead into the stars, or was his fate dwelling within the dark waters?

“Is something amiss, Sergeant?” the guard asked.

“No, I’m fine.” Holden left the checkpoint and moved down the street, returning to Yerryn’s office. The guards at the door were like statues, the fog of their breaths the only sign that they were even alive. Opening the door, he stepped inside to find both Yerryn and Marius there to greet him.

“Did you have a pleasant stroll, Sergeant?” Marius asked, folding his arms over his chest. His stern gaze was absent, however the look Yerryn had was fearsome enough. “We were worried that you were being ran late by wolves and outlaws.”

“I was out looking for some peace of mind,” Holden said. It was a lie, but there was no doubt that explaining his meeting with Saul was a bad idea. “As you can see, I’m well enough.”

“Then let us waste no further time.” Marius motioned for Holden to sit. “While the elves in Rnyrt justified our cause for annexing the nation, the good people of Oner fear that our intent was to claim far more. With us now at their borders, it is an understandable fear. In good faith, we are committing a unit of soldiers from the Royal Army to aid them in their war with Omem. I want you in that unit.”

“What of the Aradians?” asked Holden. “They still have a price to pay.”

“If we were to declare an open war against Arade now, then the fear of On’hinian expansion would rise once more. Not to mention, the forests of Arade have never been successfully invaded before. The preparation for such a battle could take decades.” Marius glanced at Yerryn. “Can you remember the last time an army tried to invade Arade?”

“Not quite,” Yerryn said. Her tone was cold as ice, though it seemed to bother Marius little. “The last notable aggression was the Umbral Reign, when the Horde tried its might against the elves. The Aradians did what it took the rest of Erelith to manage at Siyerrod.”

“Right.” Marius scratched his jaw, bearing a look of deep thought. “Then it would take an army with more might than ever before witnessed in Erelith. One that could contest the battling forces in the Origins. But, as I said, Arade is a long, distant dream at the moment.”

“Colonel, why do you want me in this unit? Why are we even getting involved with Oner’s concerns?” Holden was not too warm with the idea of going out to battle so soon. He only recovered from near death this morning. Even the piercing glares of Marius and Yerryn were little in comparison to the unfaltering chill that flowed through his body with his brush with death.

“Listen closely,” Marius said, “while we can sustain our nation’s upkeep through exporting quality goods, to rely solely on that would present the risk of our economy going stagnant.”

“I don’t quite understand.”

Marius sighed, and rubbed his own forehead. “Have you ever heard of Oase?”

“The nation wiped out by the Ar'taians, yes.”

“It was. Now, before the Cascade of Ice, the nation was renowned for one thing; having the most fierce and capable warriors to set foot in Erelith. They lived independent of the need for trade, but vended their strength to other nations, so they could improve their way of life.”

“A nation of mercenaries?” Holden asked.

“Indeed.” Marius cleared his throat, and looked to Yerryn. “Would you mind explaining this to him?”

“Not at all, sir,” replied Yerryn. “Our nation’s military is used in a similar fashion to the Oaseans.”

“What are you saying?” Holden asked, the blood in his veins starting to grow heated. “That I am but a mere sellsword?”

“It is not only about the Angits,” Marius said, “it’s about improving the diplomatic relations between us and Oner. The King’s General’s agreed that founding an alliance with the nation would prove extremely beneficial.”

“Then send in the entire On’hinian army,” suggested Holden.

“In time,” Marius explained. “For now, we offer as much aid as they can accept, until they permit us to grow fully involved. There is still plenty of time before the unit will be formed. In the meantime, relax. I understand that the ordeal you survived in Rnyrt is still fresh in your memory.”

“I will be training you personally,” Yerryn said, “so that you may embody the ideals of an On’hinian soldier in more than just marksmanship. We’ll be travelling to Stal to execute such training.”

Holden blinked. “Stal?” His confusion worsened at Marius’ chuckle.

“Ah, Stal,” Marius said, in some cloud of nostalgia. “It’s the crucible that changed countless men into glowing heroes. It’s an honor to be trained in such a place, Alnhart. I pray that you come out stronger for it.”

“Enjoy the evening,” Yerryn said, “because at dawn, we’ll leave.” Standing up, she bowed her head towards Marius, before leaving the room.

“I gather that she holds something against you,” Marius commented.

“She blames me for Honler’s condition.” Holden looked at the seat where Yerryn was. She did have some right to be angry at him. “When she was explaining my assignment, she asked me to look after him.”

“Never make those promises,” said Marius. “The Sergeant was more than aware of the danger he faced. Whatever happened prior to your intervention is of his own doing.”

“How could I explain that to Yerryn?”

“You can’t. There’s nothing in Erelith that can appease the soul after loss of love.”

“Loss of love?”

“Yerryn and Honler were to be wed when they retired from His Majesty’s service,” Marius explained. Perhaps he did not realize it, but each of his words only made the matter worse for Holden.

“I had no idea,” he murmured softly. Yerryn held not only a broken oath against him, but the ruined chance of love, as well. Part of Holden began to wish that Marius had never saved him, so that he could repent for his failure in trying to rescue Honler.

“I know that look,” said Marius as he stood up. “You’re blaming yourself for this mess. Well, I’m unsure of how to reassure you that you’re innocent, but…” He leaned in, lowering his voice as he stared into Holden’s eyes. “You have no time to grieve. Not yet. Keep moving, or let death catch up to you.”

Tales of Erelith: The Exile (Chapter 7)

The sun was seated high above the horizon by the time Holden returned to the camp. The journey back was much faster, since the marsh’s water level quickly dropped over the night. The camp was bigger than before, since all the tents were now set up. Behind him was a Sea Tiger; a sentry escorting him to the officer’s quarters.

“Let’s not waste any time, Scout Alnharte.” The Sea Tiger led Holden through the camp, which almost appeared vacant, if not for the quiet voices and snoring heard from inside most of the tents. As they passed the triage tent, Holden peered inside; empty. He would have to find Honler later. As they approached the officer’s tent, the Sea Tiger stood next to the entrance, and gestured for Holden to enter.

With a nod, Holden pulled the tent flaps apart and stepped inside. Unlike the rest of the camp, nothing changed in here. It was still as dark as the Umbra, and he felt like he was in the lion’s den; with Colonel Marius being the lion.

“I did not expect to see you so soon.” He was at his desk, with pages scattered about. “What news do you have for me, scout?”

“The Rnyrtian capital is not far from here, sir,” Holden replied. He did not want to take the risk of angering the colonel, partly because he worth in the campaign was spent, and because he lacked the energy to withstand more of his anger. “Following one of their routes, we would reach the capital within the day, should we start now.”

“Excellent. I expect you to perform this well when I call upon you in the future.” Marius cracked a grin. “I suppose the men under my command have told you about my wrathful demeanor? Don’t worry, Alnharte -- I rarely snap against the obedient ones.” He beckoned Holden to come closer, presenting a well-detailed map of the nearby area. “I had a few soldiers take care of mapping out our landing more thoroughly. Show me where you found this route.”

Examining the map, Holden brought his finger to where the wooden path began. “There are a few Rnyrtians patrolling the route, sir. They stop when night falls, however the predators can tear a man apart in the mere blink of an eye. I have seen it, and the prey’s companions didn’t even notice.”

“Duly noted.” Marking where Holden placed his finger on the map, Marius stopped, and gave Holden a curious expression. “You didn’t see any other On’hinians along the way, did you?”

“No, sir.”

“Damn fools,” Marius muttered. “While I am not imposing that you give up your well deserved rest, you should know what became of your friend, Sergeant Honler.”

“Sir?”

“Shortly after your departure, a group of Sea Tigers was sent out in search of a hideout for the rest of the elves, after the discovery of a second Aradian vessel. It was beached a ways from the camp. None of them have returned.” Marius locked eyes with Holden. “Honler is among those missing. While you may feel some obligation to find him, keep in mind that you will have to do so alone. With the battle at hand, I cannot spare the time -- nor the manpower -- to ensure your own safety.”

“Yes, sir.” Holden managed to hold back his impulse to speak out. If he lived without seeing Marius’ scorn again, it would be too soon. There was a brief silence, before Marius returned his gaze to the paperwork before him.

“You’re dismissed.” He gestured to the exit. “Should all go well, you’ll be home in a few moons. My advice is to carefully consider whether or not the chance of finding Honler alive is worth the risk of laying a return to home to forfeit.”

Biting his tongue to trap a poisonous retort, Holden nodded slowly, before leaving the tent. Abandoning Honler was far from acceptable. Yerryn trusted that he would look after the Sergeant, and Holden owed Honler his life. He had to find where the group had gone off to.

“I assume things went well,” the Sea Tiger sentry said, “seeing as you’re still standing.”

“I need to know where the other Aradian vessel was found,” Holden requested, not caring to invest any time in small banter.

“Ah, right, I heard about that. It’s a ways down south, along the coast. What’s there for you?”

“I’ll explain everything later, but I need to find a comrade of mine.”

“Ah…” The Sea Tiger was wearing a helmet, concealing nearly his whole face, wherever his beard could not. Rubbing his chin, he then shook his head. “We don’t leave anyone behind, orders or no. That is what the Sea Tigers were founded upon, after all.”

“Not needed,” said Holden. “You’re to fight in the main assault on the capital.”

The Sea Tiger waved it off with a small chortle. “You ought to learn more about us. Your friend’s life far outweighs the floggings Marius’ll give me for deserting a post, and it would only take a handful of us to lay Rnyrt to waste.”

With a soft groan, Holden took a moment to think of a compromise. “If I do not return before the battle has ended, then send a search party after me. But, you must keep in line until then. I won’t have you punished for my own promises.”

“Alright, alright.” The Sea Tiger offered a hand. “Nadramor. Corporal Nadramor, if you like, but Nadramor all the same.”

“Holden.” After shaking Nadramor’s hand, Holden turned and hurried off for the Aradian ship.

***

Thick clouds rolled in over the sky, straining the amount of daylight that reflected off the Aradian vessel’s beautiful design. Perhaps it was the ship’s masterwork that would stun opposing naval units, sparing them from boardings or outright destruction. As Holden walked around the boat, he found footprints leading from it to the mainland. Preparing for the worst, he drew an arrow and followed them.

While thankfully the ground was solid and relatively dry, the nervousness clamping onto Holden was outweighing the discomfort of his previous task several times over. His mind fathomed of what Honler and the others ran into. What could bring down a group of seasoned warriors, that countless Rnyrtian warriors could not?

Soon, the ambience of the shore faded, as Holden followed the tracks further into the jungle. It occurred to him to move through the bushes. He could avoid any traps set for a search party. If the Aradians were as cunning as the stories of soldiers made them out to be, it was a surprise that he had not sprung such a trap already.

A faint groan caught Holden’s ear, and he looked to find a man slumped against a tree, not far off the path; a Sea Tiger. Approaching the man, Holden clasped his shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry,” he said in a quiet voice, “I’m an ally.” Examining the soldier, his eyes widened at the numerous arrow shafts protruding from his chest. They appeared enlodged deep inside the soldier’s body, and likely perforated his innards beyond help. The soldier glanced down at his own blood-splotched tunic, and then up to Holden.

“Don’t think I’ll be coming back home,” he said, almost as if trying to deliver a joke. He was not afraid, even as Om Herself waited to guide him through the Umbra. “The elves,” he said, casting his eyes over to the path, “they took the others. Stop them, before it’s too late.” He rested his cold hand over Holden’s, and exhaled softly, as the last drop of life evaporated from his body.

For a period, Holden could only sit by the soldier’s side, and murmur a prayer or two. But, he forced himself to get up. This would be the fate of many more soldiers should he idle any longer. Stepping over the corpse, Holden followed along the path. Though no signs of a battle were evident on his surroundings, it was possible that the Aradians merely fixed the scenery to hide any signs.

In the distance, the trees gave way to a clearing. Approaching the clearing carefully, Holden looked at the lone, small building that stood in the center -- likely where the Aradians were hiding out. There were no windows, which left Holden without a clue as to what was inside. Just as he started to move for the building, a glimmer in his peripheral made him stop and turn his head.

There Leucis was.

The elf that Holden saw in On’hino, the one who had an outpost attacked and its tenants roasted. The Aradian whom had given orders to kill off stragglers after defeating Tamef’s band of guerillas. The bastard who cost Tamef his life.

Holden drew an arrow, yearning to bring himself some feeling of justice. Pulling the bowstring back, he held his breath to stifle any sudden movements, before releasing. He watched the arrow find its mark, as Leucis was struck and collapsed to the ground. Holden stepped free of the trees, and ran towards the elf. His long strides made quick work of the distance, though it was greater than he had anticipated. Slowing himself down to a walk as he came close to the elf, he set his bow down and drew Yusil from its scabbard, in the case that the Aradian’s wound was not grievous.

Leucis lay there, staring up at the clear skies whilst clutching his side, blood running through his fingers and around the wooden shaft of the arrow. His eyes flicked towards Holden, filled with a plain curiosity, and a deep malice. “I should have expected that there were more On’hinian filth lurking nearby,” he muttered.

“Shut up.” Holden held the tip of his blade at the elf’s throat.

“I recognize you,” Leucis said. “You were one of those worthless militia that we faced in On’hino, aren’t you?” He laughed, staring at Holden. “Is that why you’re here? To claim some sort of revenge for your little friends?”

“I’m here because you have a few On’hinian soldiers captive, and they’re coming with me.”

“That’s a shame.” Leucis gave Holden a wicked grin. “It’ll make killing you all the less enjoyable.” Pain shot through Holden’s shoulder, and an arm locked tight around his throat, cutting off the passage of air. Leucis managed to get up, and leaned in towards Holden. “Don’t worry, you’ll have your chance at vengeance soon enough.”

Holden tried to struggle, to break free and breathe. But, it was in vain. With his strength waning, he felt himself go limp, as the world slipped out of focus.

***

When Holden came to, the light of day was absent from the sky, as the stars dressed the heavens in countless, glittering gems. He found his arms bound behind his back, and the pain in his shoulder a lingering sting.

“I didn’t think you would end up in this mess,” someone beside Holden said. He turned to find a beaten, bloody Honler, bound up in a similar manner.

“What happened to your?” Holden asked, trying to stand up. However, the armbinds were tied to something else, which his strength could not overcome.

“We were ambushed when we searched for the elves. Those who weren’t captured were killed. I’m starting to wish that I was amongst those killed. The things they have done to us… the others didn’t make it.” Honler looked about in the darkness. “We should have brought a larger group, been more careful…”

“Don’t worry, Honler, we’re going to be fine.” However, there was something about Honler that unsettled Holden. He looked like the dead living; it was clear that he had given up any hope of breaking free, or being rescued. Instead of looking to escape his captors, he looked to escape his life.

Approaching footsteps drew Holden’s attention, and he could make out a few silhouettes in the dark. Was it the Sea Tigers? Had they finished their seizing of the capital, and come for him and the others?

“I promised that you’d have your chance at vengeance again,” Leucis said. The elf knelt in front of Holden. “I’m sorry that my guard stabbed your good arm, but I think it’ll make little difference. I’ll break you, like I did this one.” He gestured towards Honler. “You’ll beg for death, and then I’ll take you back to Arade. His Majesty enjoys the entertainment.” Reaching behind Holden, Leucis cut the binds, and stood up. He kicked Holden’s sword over to him, before drawing a scimitar, the moonlight gleaming over the curved blade. “Get up and fight, On’hinian scum.”

Reaching for the sword, Holden could feel the pain in his shoulder double. He was tired, hungry, and in pain. However, he endured, and tightened the grip on his blade. He would be broken like Honler, even if it meant suffering pains far worse than death.

“Good, good!” Leucis exclaimed excitedly. “There is nothing more satisfying than breaking the will of a soldier who thinks his spirit indomitable -- it’s like the snapping of bone.” Pointing his blade at Holden, he began to move closer, to be just out of Holden’s reach.

“What reason did you have to cause so much pain?” Holden stepped forth, swinging his sword in a horizontal arc. While he could manage in a melee against the unseasoned Rnyrtians, his inexperienced showed against his skilled opponent. Leucis parried the blow, sending Holden off-balance.

“You wouldn’t understand -- you’re fighting with your heart, not your head.” With unparalleled swiftness, Leucis grabbed Holden’s sword arm, and dragged his blade over the forearm, eliciting an agonized cry from Holden. His steel slick with blood, he let go of Holden’s arm and kicked his leg out, sending Holden to the ground. “His majesty vowed to take whatever massacres needed not to repeat the errors of our predecessors. When the purity of Arade is threatened by the expansion and copulation as filthy and corrupt as yours, we will assure that our nation's sanctity survives by any means.”

“Even by spilling the blood of women and children?” Pushing himself up, Holden clutched his forearm in an attempt to hold the wound shut. “I’ll cling to my homeland, if that keeps me from being akin to you!” Thrusting his blade at Leucis, he lunged with the weight of his body.

Leucis dodged the blade with ease, and tripped Holden, sending him back to the ground. “I would assume you are ignorant of Aradian history, else you would know of the Crimson Moon tragedy.” With a thrust of his blade, he pierced Holden’s gut, and held his blade there.

The pain shot through Holden’s body, as he screamed and writhed in agony. Gritting his teeth he tried his hardest to deny Leucis any further display of agony.

“Seeing as we have plenty of time to chat, let me explain it to you.” Leucis planted a boot on Holden’s chest, keeping him pinned. “A few centuries ago, a naive Arade stood. We welcomed scholars and historians into the Sacred Woods, and soon after merchants, travelers and nobles came into our holy lands. However, we were blinded and fooled by their mannerisms, and failed to notice the vice and corruption that your kind poisoned our home with. Ara, angry with our failure to heed such an insolence, used to her strength to purge the lands of our tainted kind. Those who survived the Crimson Moon were left to live as a reminder to never allow such corruption to infect Arade again.” Glancing at Holden’s twitching sword arm, Leucis moved his boot against the wound on his forearm. “I’m not finished. When King Daewanex arose, he proclaimed that we have a higher calling; to purify Erelith of sinful refuse; like you.” Leucis to turned to look over his shoulder, as one of his soldiers cleared his throat. “What is it?”

“The tribes of Rnyrt have fallen,” the soldier said. “The elves within the capital went down fighting. Wood Watch Delisar, he is--”

“His sacrifice will be noted.” Leucis lifted his boot off of Holden’s arm. “As much as I would have liked to break you, it appears we’re out of time.” Pulling his own blade out of Holden’s body, he tapped the bloody steel against his throat. “Since you’ve proven more resilient than I gave you credit for, I’ll torture someone else in your honor. What is your name?”

“His name is Holden,” someone growled, “and he won’t cower to the likes of you.” In the corner of Holden’s vision, he could see Marius standing tall in the moonlight. He approached carelessly, until one of the Aradians charged at him, daggers drawn. Marius moved quickly for a man of his muscular build. His broadsword was between him and the elf in and instant. He ran the blade through the elf’s ribcage, before ripping it out and dropping the corpse.

“Marius!” Leucis chirped happily. “My, I thought our paths would never cross again.”

“And should you choose to do anything aside from retreating this instant, I’ll make sure they won’t.” Marius pointed his broadsword at Leucis. “I will not tolerate your stench any longer.”

Leucis was silent for a moment, before he sheathed his blade. “King Daewanex expects me.” He turned, and left Holden on the ground as a bloody mess.

“It would a shame if I had gone through the trouble of filling out a commendation for a death man.” Marius sheathed his sword, before kneeling over Holden. “Breathe easy; he’s gone.”

“And the assault?” Holden asked weakly.

“They surrendered after a brief battle. The Sea Tigers rolled over them without pause. A Nadramor urged me to go after you, since he was busy with licking his own wounds.”

“Good…”

“Stop talking; that’s an order. Save your strength for recovery.” Marius started to bandage Holden’s injuries, talking further of… Holden was not sure. His voice grew muffled, and eventually faded to nothing. One by one, the stars in the sky disappeared, before Holden could see nothing but a sea of black. Time crept to a standstill, as he could feel the tethers binding him to his body loosen.

“... Holden? Holden?!”

Tales of Erelith: The Exile (Chapter 6)

Holden’s boots sank into the mud, making each step more difficult than the last. The rain was seeping through his hood, reintroducing the frigid cold to his body. He looked about for some means of shelter. It was a miracle that he made it this far with the worsening conditions. The unkempt ground he walked upon was slowly becoming a marsh, trying to suck him further into the earth. As he used a tree to pull himself free of the terrain, Holden glanced at a route consisting of wood built above the mud. He had followed the route for a while, now, but dared not use it. It left him exposed, and if any Rnyrtian approached him, there was nowhere to hide.

Just then, Holden saw something crawling along the road. It was too big to be a man, and crept with fluid motions that the most experienced of rogues would envy. Just as Holden notched an arrow, the creature stopped. Had it seen him? He drew back the bowstring, and aimed at the form, taking care to back little noise. Right before he fired, Holden stopped himself. A more probable reason for the creature’s halt came into view.

A group of Rnyrtian warriors walked on the wooden path at an almost leisurely pace, their jargon mixed in with chuckles and expressions that holden had yet to comprehend. They were unaware of the creature lying in wait. Much like the beast, Holden waited to lay claim on a life. When the patrol passed over it, nothing happened. Instead, it waited until the last of the four Rnyrtians passed by. Then, -- without any warning -- the predator burst from the marsh, claws grabbing onto the last warrior. Powerful jaws drove sharp fangs through soft flesh, and the victim could not let out a mere squeak of alarm before going limp.

As the silent killer dragged its prize down into the marsh, the rest of the Rnyrtians carried on; none noticing the sudden absence of their fourth. It was but one of the several dangers lurking in the jungle, and they fed on carelessness. Holden looked around himself for any sign of such a predator, but finding nothing gave him little relief. It could be that whatever killed the Rnyrtian was already stalking him. Miserable and unnerved, he pushed further on in spite of it all, and searched for some form of shelter.

The downpour only grew worse, as he found himself waist deep in water. The murky waters made it simple enough for anything to move about freely, protected from sight. Holden reeled his attention back in when he spotted the warm glow of firelight through the rain. Moving from tree to tree, he drew close to find yet another Rnyrtian campsite -- built within the mouth of a cave -- occupied by four Rnyrtians who huddled around the fire for warmth. Readying an arrow, Holden weighed his options carefully. On the presumption that his first arrow was on target, he would still be left with three warriors, and they could close the distance between Holden and themselves before he could fire another.

However, the obscuring effect of the rain could afford him plenty of time. They would have no idea as to his whereabouts, giving him the opportunity to pick them off, one by one. Taking aim, Holden steadied his shivering form, just long enough to let his arrow take flight. Then, he took cover behind a tree, not looking for the results of his marksmanship. He would just have to trust in his accuracy. It would only pose a risk to check, and one he would regret if the Rnyrtians did spot him. He could hear a pained scream barely overpower the rain, indicating that his arrow found a target. Notching another arrow, Holden waited, placing time in between each shot. While the scream evoked a guilt he had felt since the battle with the Aradians, he kept drowning it all under the same logic that made him lose little sleep over each man he killed. It was him, or them. It was a battle for survival.

Exhaling slowly, Holden peered around the tree to find the three untouched Rnyrtians absent from the camp, the one he hit writhing in pain next to the fire. Staying as still as a statue, he waited for the others. He noticed one of the Rnyrtians slowly creeping towards the injured one, stopping now in then in what he assumed was hesitation. Pulling back his plumed messenger of death, Holden aimed carefully, imagining the targets Saul had him practice on. The rain stopped as he found himself atop the hill that Saul’s home was built upon. He felt the gentle breeze caressing his face, and saw the small bullseye painted upon the trunk of the oak. As he had done countless times over, he released the arrow, and watched as it landed in the heart of the target.

As quickly as it came, the scene melted back into the cold, soaking reality. The second Rnyrtian was motionless on the ground, the arrow nestled in his head; right in the eye. Just as Holden moved back behind the tree, an arrow whistled past his head. It landed in the marsh, disappearing from sight. He turned to find one of the Rnyrtians wielding a bow, and reaching for another arrow. Holden quickly drew and fired at the archer, his alacritous reflexes fueled by adrenaline and panic. As his arrow missed, he moved as fast as he could through the marsh to put the tree between him and the archer.

A vigorous sloshing behind Holden made him turn around, only to find the last of the Rnyrtians closing in on him, war club in hand. Dropping his bow, he drew Yusil, and bared it at the Rnyrtian, its keen edge enough to make the warrior try to stop his approach, only to end up stumbling forward. Taking advantage of the warrior’s hesitation, Holden lunged forward, thrusting his blade to pierce the Rnyrtian’s chest. However, something under the marsh caught his boot and tripped him, sending him face first into the water. With all of his senses -- spare touch -- suddenly void of use, he shut his eyes and mouth tight to keep muck from pouring in. All he felt was a slight resistance against his hands, before it suddenly gave way. Moments after, he could feel warmth flowing over his hands; blood. Then, a crushing forced buried him under the marsh’s surface.

Struggling to free himself of the weight on his back, Holden’s strength was sapped by the water’s thick tension, providing more than enough resistance to keep him pinned. He wanted to cry out for help, but it would do no good. His lungs started to ache as he clawed at the silky mud at the bottom of the marsh, trying to pull himself out from under the mass. He could feel death’s sweet embrace around him, inviting him to rest if not for but a moment. As a sliver of relaxation started to slip into his panic, Holden then caught something firm between his fingers; a root. Grasping it firmly, he pulled himself with all of his remaining strength out from under the heavy weight, and shot his head out of the water. He sucked fresh air into his lungs, breathing raggedly and rejoicing in the fact that he was alive; forgetting where he was, or what he was doing.

Holden felt the rain wash over his face, cleansing it of the excess mud. Looking behind himself, he found the bloodied edge of Yusil protruding from the murky depths. As it dawned on him that the Rnyrtian warrior’s corpse almost drowned him, he chuckled softly.

Suddenly, someone grabbed him by the head and started to drive him towards the blade. Holden managed to muster the strength to keep from being impaled, the steel just grazing against his throat. With one hand dedicated to keeping his head from moving further, he felt about under the murky water for something; anything to trade for another moment alive. His hand found the handle of the war club, and he pulled it free, swinging it just behind his head. Holden could hear a crunching noise as the club made contact, and a howl of pain. As the pressure on his head ceased, he stood up and turned to find the Rnyrtian archer clutching his arm, which was bent in a manner the gods never intended.

Closing the distance between the archer and himself, Holden raised the club over his head for a devastating blow. The archer tried to back up, but tripped over something else within the marsh waters. As his body sunk under the water, the only visible thing was his hand. Holden swung the club into the water, as it lodged itself firmly into something, and refused to budge further. The hand twitched, before going limp, and sinking into the water; claimed by the marsh.

Breathing raggedly, Holden dropped the club, and staggered over to the impaled Rnyritan. Bloody, muddy and soaked to the bone, he lowered himself down and felt for the corpse’s shoulders. Turning the body on its side, Holden pulled his blade from the host of flesh. After some brief searching, he retrieved his bow from the bog, and then made his way to the Rnyrtian group’s camp. He paid little mind to the two dead next to the fire, too exhausted and enveloped in the warmth of the flames. Finding a spot to rest comfortably by the fire, he watched the flames and embers crackle. When his shivering subsided, he took care in putting out the fire, as to not draw attention with the smoke.

Draping his cloak over himself, Holden rested his head against the ground, and watched the rain fall through the jungle canopy, engorging the marsh even further. He was too tired to care about the lives he just took, nor the multiple ways he nearly died, himself. About the filth he was covered in, how subjected he was to contracting a disease, nor that a disease was one of the many ways he could perish out here; alone, and unheard. His eyes shut, and he thought of home. The feeling of a warm bed was already a distant memory, but he tried his best to immerse himself in it. When his body relaxed, and the rain was null to his ears, he drifted off.

***

When his eyes opened, Holden was relieved to find himself still in one piece. The rain had stopped, leaving only the marsh as a hinderance. The powerful stench of rot hit Holden’s senses, making him cover his nose in some vain effort to protect himself against the repulsive odor. He glanced over at the two dead Rnyrtians, their eyes locked open by death. Feeling the sympathetic grief in his heart, Holden got up -- slipping on his cloak and resting his hood over his head -- and approached the two corpses.

“May Hino reward your souls for giving yourselves to Om with such youth, and protect them in the Umbra,” he said; a brief prayer was all he could afford to spare. Closing the Rnyrtian’s eyes, he then stood up and began to leave the cave. However, he could not handle the odor anymore. He leaned against the cave wall as he hunched over, and retched onto the ground. It was not the rotting alone that made him nauseous, but rather everything that came back to him from hours before.

Turning back, he used his cloak as a cover for his nostrils, as  he made a quick effort to search around for food. His stomach was grumbling, and the only thing that came out of him was pure bile. To his fortune, a half loaf of bread sat on the ground beside the fire. He brushed it off, before biting into it. While normally, he would be disgusted, he could not complain now -- it was a choice between eating dirt-covered bread, or dying. Finishing the bread quickly, he lifted his canteen to his mouth, and took in a mouthful of water, before he left the cave.

The cool marsh greeted him with a chilled embrace around his legs, to which he paid little mind. It was nothing in comparison to the frigid temperatures he endured before. However, the removal of one obstacle only introduced another; the waning sunlight. Though he would soon be concealed in the darkness of night, so would the Rnyrtians, and the predators who lurk about. As he spotted the road of planks, Holden resumed his travel. Keeping an eye on the route, he saw nobody pass by. Perhaps the Rnyrtians knew that they had no business contending with predators without the broad daylight.

A crunching noise nearby drew Holden’s attention. With his bow in hand, he notched an arrow and moved carefully to investigate. Weaving through the trees, he looked for the source. As he circled around a boulder, his hair went on ends when the rock bellowed. Scrambling behind a tree, he let a few oaths slip under his breath. After taking a moment to calm himself, he peered around the tree to look at the form once more. As the creature moved -- as slowly as it did -- it was somewhat relieving to find it held no resemblance to the predator he saw before. And, surely it would have killed him the second he got close, if it had wanted to.

The beast looked like an unkempt bovine, with a shaggy coat that drifted around in the marsh waters. Aside from its size, the only intimidating aspect about it was the horns on its head, standing out like wicked daggers to skew anything that challenges it.

Keeping a safe distance from the beast, Holden returned to his route. He began to wonder about the various creatures that inhabited Erelith, aside from the Sentient Races, such as himself. There were predators that could pierce a man’s heart with a single bite, and beasts of staggering size, that could likely rend through steel. His thoughts were cut short. He noticed something sloshing a ways behind him. Turning around, he locked eyes with the predator that he saw earlier. There it was, its fangs still bearing a faded red color. As it gradually drew closer, Holden fired. The predator jumped towards Holden, before a sudden, violent bellow made it freeze. The ground shook, as the trunks splintered. The bovine-creature rammed into the predator. Though it missed with its horns, the force behind the creature’s charge sent the predator into the air. While Holden could not see it, he could hear the predator slam into a tree, before falling into the water with a splash. There was something comical about the scene, and he would have laughed, if not for the lack of energy he had to spare. He turned his back to the giant bovine, and ventured further on.

Though it was unlikely that the predator survived such a bone crushing brutality, Holden remained wary for the rest of the travel, yet picked up his pace. The longer he spent finding the Rnyrtian capital, the longer the Sea Tigers would wait on the beach, at the mercy of the storms and the sea. The longer the Aradians would have to escape the justice due to them, and the judgement in Tamef’s name. And, needless to say, the longer the jungles of Rnyrt had to claim Holden. As the moon rose, it only prevailed in shining through where the jungle’s canopy yielded. With the route all but impossible to see, Holden had to make the choice between waiting until dawn, or using the route itself. Approaching the wooden highway, he pulled himself onto it and resumed his mission.

Though he remained extremely cautious, Holden encountered nothing else until he noticed a change in the surroundings. Ahead, a collection of lights illuminated buildings wrapped around tremendous trees, seeming to climb up to the heavens. Moving off of the road, he crept through the trees to observe the settlement. Could this be the capital? He had not progressed very far, and was only a day into his travel. Then again, with such terrain, it made sense for the capital to stand so close to the coast. Their goddess could sink an entire fleet in exchange for their pleas, and the marsh between here and the neighboring nations would take swallow up an unprepared army.

A loud screech drew Holden’s attention away from the buildings. Rnyrtians gathered around a platform built at the base of a large tree. Atop it was what Holden assumed was a priestess -- designated the markings on her body, signifying the storms of their goddess, Ryn -- and another Rnyrtian, stripped down and left vulnerable. As the spectators were silent, the priestess held up a dagger, before bringing it down on the Rnyrtian. Holden almost gagged, but for some reason could not prevent himself from watching. There was no other sounds, except the pained screams of the sacrifice.

Suddenly, the crowd below bursted into ecstatic cheering and joy. With a fist-sized hole bored into his chest, the sacrifice plummeted from the platform as the priestess held high a blood clump in her hand. What it was, exactly, Holden could not tell.

Averting his gaze from the gory spectacle, Holden turned his attention to the huts again. Then, he saw someone, standing and peering out the window, watching the sacrifice as well. There was no denying the sharp ears and thin build; an elf, and undoubtedly one of the Aradians responsible for Tamef’s death. Drawing an arrow, Holden stopped himself short of slaying the Aradian. It would only jeopardize what he, Honler and the others worked to achieve. Easing the bowstring, he put his arrow back into his quiver and began the journey back. It would not be long before the elf became the victim of retribution.

A return!

Hello everyone!

I apologize for my hiatus lasting much longer than planned. While I was working on getting my life on track, I also ended up catching the flu. That set me back much further than before I made the Hiatus post. But, now that everything is in order, I would like to get back to what I love doing; writing, and writing for you folks. Let's make 2016 a great year!

Hiatus.

Hello everyone! I just wanted to give you a heads up, that for the rest of the month I will be inactive on this blog. This is so I can focus on other important things in my life, and generate enough content to not be behind schedule again. Thank you for your patience and understanding! Happy holidays!

Tales of Erelith: The Exile (Chapter 5, Part 2)

By the time the sun rose, the coastline reeked of death. Holden watched the open sea, sitting atop a log in the cover of the jungle. Planted in the dirt next to him was his last two arrows. He took great care of them, so they would last the night.

“See them yet?” Honler asked, focused on wrapping a bandage around his thigh. It was but one of several wounds he received through the numerous skirmishes under the moon. However, he seemed ready to fight, despite the injuries.

Holden frowned, as the sea was absent of any kind of ship. “Not yet.” Plucking an arrow from the earth, Holden examined it. The arrowhead was dull from constant usage. Sighing, he set the arrow back down, knowing full well that the other was no better. “Are you feeling any better?”

“We’ll avoid discussing how I feel.” Honler closed his eyes, and rested his hands on his chest. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll have the doctors examine me when the forces reach us.”

Holden glanced over at Honler, as he felt a sense of disgust with himself. The growing daylight made it apparent how much of a bloody mess Honler actually was. It made Holden feel somewhat like a coward, since his pains much pale in comparison to what the sergeant felt. He moved off of the log, taking a seat on the ground and resting his back against it. He felt exhaustion start to take over, after so long. The adrenaline of battle had been enough to keep him awake for hours on end, but with no dangers lurking nearby -- after having killed so many Rnyrtians, he hoped that was the case -- he was finally falling victim to sleep. His eyelids grew heavy, as he managed one last glance at Honler, before drifting off.

***

Holden opened his eyes, finding himself back in Perona. He stood on a wooden platform, surrounded by countless citizens; all with angry expressions. He tried to speak, but no words would leave his mouth. He was not suppressed in any manner, however his voice held no volume. His arms and legs were bound by rope, making it impossible to do anything. Then, a rope fell over his head, and slithered tightly around his neck. Holden’s eyes shot wide; was he being hung?

He cried out for his life, before the platform gave way, silencing his mute screams. Fighting desperately to breathe, Holden felt the pressure building up in his head, and the air trapped in his lungs. His useless struggling became more and more taxing, until he stopped moving altogether, falling asleep.

***

In cold sweat, Holden sat up, looking about the area. Everything was as he left it, spare the sun was much higher up. Breathing raggedly, he felt his neck, glad to find nothing constricting him. As real as it felt, the execution was a mere dream. “How long was I asleep?” he asked. When Honler said nothing in turn, Holden looked over his shoulder, and felt the blood in his veins chill. All there was in his absence was a bloody, soiled bandage on the ground. Getting up, Holden drew an arrow from the ground, and readied his bow. “Honler?” he called out, looking around as a sense of anxiety crawled up his spine. Someone took Honler, and he could just as easily be taken.

What did the Rnyrtians do to prisoners? To those they knew killed their brothers and sisters, and in mass numbers? He shuddered at the thought. There was no civility with savages, no rules or limits they were not meant to surpass. For all he knew, being hung would have been a grace compared to what they had in store for him.

The snapping of a twig behind Holden made him jump, before he whirled around and fired his arrow. It whistled through the air before hitting a tree with a meaty thunk.

“Easy, easy!” Someone cried out from behind the tree. “Scout Alnharte, disengage yourself!”

Dawning on him that it was a Sea Tiger, Holden lowered his bow, but not his guard. “I understand,” he said, “ you can come out.”

The Sea Tiger came out of hiding, approaching Holden slowly. “Sergeant Honler came out to us a while ago, and he told us to send for you, after the doctors evaluated him.” He clasped Holdens shoulder. “He told us how the two of you eliminated so many Rnyrtians in one night. Impressive, I might add.”

“Is Honler alright?” asked Holden.

“You can breathe easy. His cuts are numerous, but none are deep. He has thick skin.” The Sea Tiger motioned for Holden to follow him. “He’ll have plenty of time to recover. We’re still setting up the camp. That, along with waiting for you to gather information involving the whereabouts of the Rnyrtian capital.” As they walked towards the coast, Holden could hear orders being shouted. Soon to come into view was the Sea Tiger’s camp. Even in such a short amount of time, a few tents were already completed.

A loud crackle of thunder resounded through the camp. Some of the soldiers swore or groaned to express their discontent at the noise. Those who had yet to erect their tents moved closer to the treeline first. It must be to ensure that their camp would not be swept out to sea during the storm. Holden took note of a large, important-looking tent as the Sea Tiger led him towards its entrance.

“This is the officer’s quarters,” the Sea Tiger explained. “The General of Foreign Campaigns himself disseminates his messages through the personnel here. The current Colonel running things has requested you by name, Scout Alnharte.”

“By name?” Holden blinked. There were only a few people who knew his name already.

“Head inside when you’re ready. I need to help with the tents, lest we all be at the storm’s mercy. Just be careful when dealing with him, he can come off as intimidating.” With a salute, the Sea Tiger departed, leaving Holden alone in front of the officer’s tent.

Pulling the tent flap open, holden stepped into a dimly lit space. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, before he found himself standing in front of a man with broad shoulders, a grizzled beard, and armor-clad.  He almost jumped back as the man chuckled.

“So, you’re the fresh meat under my wing,” the man said. He turned around, and beckoned Holden to come closer. “Alnharte, you will address me as Colonel Marius. As long as you’re with the Sea Tigers and this campaign you’ll treat my word as if is the holy commandments of Hino himself.”

“Understood,” Holden replied, but he quickly regretted opening his mouth as Marius gave him a glare that could have shattered stone.

“Count your blessing that we need you,” Marius growled, “else I’d break every piece of you until you were a properly disciplined soldier. When you talk to me, it will be ‘yes sir,’ ‘no sir,’ or any proper variation of the two.”

“Yes sir!”

“Now, I trust that you were briefed on your upcoming role beforehand, with locating the Rnyrtian capital. It appears that the weather has taken a turn for the worse, so the terrain will be difficult to traverse. Keep in mind that there are routes through the marsh that composes the inland laid over with wooden planks, but avoid them. They’re highways for the Rnyrtians, and jeopardizing your anonymity amongst them is a surefire way to get yourself killed.. That, along with the host of creatures in the wilderness, and Rnyrtians lurking about, will prove if you’re worthy of our place among us.” Marius’ tone was almost spiteful; each word was a snarling beast, bading ill fortune to wrap itself around Holden. “Go on, prepare yourself and set off. Report back to me when you’ve uncovered the capital.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You’re dismissed.” Marius watched with his scorching glare as Holden exited the tent.

Once outside, Holden gave a small sigh of relief, before wandering about the camp. Of all the emotions he felt, fear was the one Marius had a strong grip on. It made sense. As Yerryn explained, the Sea Tigers were an unruly bunch. Having such a fierce leader made it easy to keep them all in line. Holden searched the camp for Honler, to ensure that he was recovering. When he stopped in front of a tent composed of white cloth, Holden peered inside to find a couple rows of cots lining either side of the interior. They were all empty, spare one near the back.

“I see they found you,” Honler said, with a slight grin. “Sorry I didn’t wake you up when they arrived.”

“It’s fine,” Holden said. “If you hadn’t, they could have moved on to a different place along the coast in search of us, and find warriors of Rnyrt rushing to greet them.”

“Aye.” Honler shifted in bed, his new bandages as white as the tent. “Don’t let me keep you from your duties, Holden. I’ve suffered far worse and pulled through. Besides, the few days that you will be gone gives me plenty of time to recover.”

“Few days?”

“What were you expecting?” Honler chuckled heartily. “You weren’t going to simply travel through Rnyrt and back in a day. You’ll be fine, though.” He sat up, and clasped Holden’s shoulder. “Just don’t fight anything that can easily kill you; jungle stalkers, Rnyrtian patrols, Hino forbid any mix of the two.”

Holden could not help but smirk. “Don’t worry, Honler, I’ll keep myself alive.”

“Then I have only one more favor to ask of you.”

“Yes?”

Honler grinned wide. “Pack an adequate amount of arrows, this time.”