Chapter 1

 

“Get down!” Adrian cried, swearing under his breath, as his second grinned across at him.

“I win. So much for no orders…” Demitri chuckled.

Adrian flinched as he fell to the dry dirt beneath him, with one of his wings pierced by a rock and the other crumpled painfully in half he only just managed to suppress a scream.

All of the soldiers near the edge dropped to the ground following his lead, their arm rest above their heads, their black wings laid out beneath them carelessly as nothing more than decoration. The ground, already stained red from long ago painted the perfect for scene.

As the Sauri’s passed on the trail above they averted their eyes from the graves of the angels. They moved along without even the slightest pause to question the new corpses on the ancient battle ground.

Only one of the soldiers dared to mumble.

“Those Sauri freaks. Always pasting new angel corpses along the ground. How dumb can you be to worship an old story like that?”

As soon as they passed the commander and his second moved first to let the rest know it was safe. The rest of the troops then stood and shook the red dust from their wings.

“Angels.” scoffed Adrian. “What an insult.”

He glanced along the road, they had been lucky that all the soldiers with him had their wings, it was a rarity nowadays. And luckily they all instinctively followed his lead, especially since he wasn’t technically in charge.

He glanced up at the sky; maybe his luck had finally changed.

He sighed and began walking away from the road; the rest of the men followed him without question.

“There’s an old barracks along here, supposedly used by the angels, but I think the Sauri built it. I used it last time I passed through. There are no traps set up around it, well not anymore.” His fingers tentatively brushed across the scar down his cheek. “And since everyone knows it stand, we'll be safe.”

Gordian, the actual Commander, scoffed.

“Safe? You have an interesting notion of safety. The warriors from the... First Battle...swore that no one would ever step on their grounds again. Going over there wouldn't be considered safe by anyone but a maniac like you. It's closer to suicide.”

Adrian laughed, though the mention of the ‘First Battle’ sent shivers down his spine. “Don't tell me you still believe in ghost stories Boy?”

With only two years between them the insult of age got to Gordian.

“The things that angels can do, even in death, wouldn't surprise me. But be my guest. You're only tagging along here by the Queen’s orders. Long live the Queen. But that doesn't mean I have to go out of my way to keep you alive. The sooner I’m rid of you the better. Take whatever troupes are willing to follow you and get out of my sight.”

Adrian chuckled a light hearted smile playing on his lips as always.

“Very well. We'll meet up again for dinner 3 passed sunset. We'll bring the food, you have the fire. It'll give both of us enough time to set up for the night and considering the sun is already half set and none of your tents are up... You'll need it.”

Gordian growled spinning to the troops staying with him .

“You lazy bunch of slackers, get your tents up. We'll be eating in just over three and I want you all ready to bunk down for the night. Any man not set up will be sleeping with the Angels. GO!”

Adrian waved a hand and turned to leave the grounds. Some of the men jumped to their feet and stumbled after him. Some of them had fought beside him before, and some of them just didn't like the idea of having to set up their tents after such a long hike. Either way the camp was split fifty-fifty when they began preparing for the night.

At exactly three past sunset Adrian marched his squad back to the battlefield, each man carrying three times what he could eat in his arms, and they headed towards the flickering light of the camp fire.

Once they had eaten, their tired minds began to play. The flames which flickered across the edges of the forest look like dancing demons surrounding them. The crackling of the logs and the howling of the wolves sounded like laughter and screams. But worst of all was the smell of blood which rose from the ground beneath them. Given where they sat no one was quite sure of what could be real.

“Does anyone want to hear the story of the ‘First Battle’ you know, since we’re here and all.” Adrian’s voice broke the silence though his words were met by a sharp elbow to the ribs from Demitri.

Gordian snorted.

“Everyone knows that story. Don’t waste our time.”

Adrian shook his head.

“Trust me; none of you have ever heard it the way I tell it. Plus it holds a warning which will be very useful for one of us…quite soon as it happens...”

He paused for a moment, glancing around to each of the soldiers, not looking away until each nodded, even Gordian eventually gave his silent approval and the story started.

His words playing out in the smoke and flames as he spoke.

“It was a war of the Angels and Demons. The Angels were hesitant to say the least, but it was an inevitable battle. The tension between Heaven and Hell, the promise of eventual bloodshed had been growing for many years. But being Angels, such a brutal approach held no appeal to them. You see the Angels didn’t have the numbers. It’s said that for every fifty souls which fall one shall rise. But the Angels, they had skill, if they wanted someone dead then they died. No one ever knew they were being targeted by an Angel, and even after death few are privileged to that information. There was never a fight, just a death, so resorting to such a barbaric war set fear into the hearts of the Angels where it warmed the Demons heartless chests.

But when the call of war came, both sides answered. Each army was of equal strength though not size. A neutral territory was prepared for the fight, the only realm which both had claims to.

Earth.

More specifically, the ground we currently abide on.”

He gestured to the wasteland surrounding them and each of the men followed his gaze. The hairs on the back of their neck rising as the smell of blood thickened in the air around them, the shadows of the forest seemed to darken and the light of the flames danced faster, taunting anyone whose mind dared to wander.

It wasn’t a battlefield they stood on; it was a graveyard.

“At the time of the war the human race was young. They were weak and they cowered in the presence of such powerful beings, of the Angels and the Demons. That was when the race was split into the two halves that exist today. Some followed each side, choosing whichever suited them best.

The ones who sided with the demons are now known as the cursed, and they wear the title proudly. When the Demons realised there was no hope, that there could be no winner, they gifted the cursed with levitation, sometimes teleportation and other abilities which to this day remain unknown. So that one day the humans would have the strength to continue the fight, win it on their behalf and free them from their fate.

The Angels responded alike. They gave their followers, the blessed, wings. These wings were not given only for their power and strength but also as a reminder of which side you served and where your loyalties lie. However, because this was a gift born of defeat the wings were stained black to remind them of both the failure, and the fact that the battle still rages.

Where the Demons wish the humans to use the power given to them to continue the battle, it is believed that the wings are meant to hold a warning rather than a mission and that the Angels knew that their place is to stay in the battle raging below. Though that point is still often argued.

Perhaps now more than ever, some claiming it’s meant to be a promise of white wings and wings that can actually fly once you win…”

He paused for a moment glancing longingly at his own blackened wings obscured by the night around them.

“Throughout the years these gifts have waned, now it is a rarity to find black wings outside of royalty or warriors blood lines. Similarly the strengths of the cursed have weakened or possibly been lost all together, nothing has been seen of them for many years to say the least. And yet the fight still goes on. We still fight against them on the side of the Angels though we have long since stopped calling it so, and they will always fight us on behalf of the Demons which no one believes in anymore.

Yet the ground we stand on, still stained by the blood we don’t believe was shed is where we now fight again. The souls who once fought the battle still feuding beneath, desperate to return home, to emerge victorious, while we fight above.”

Gordian took the pause as a chance to interrupt.

“An interesting story, but what on earth does it have to do with us?! You’re wasting our time with nothing more than an old wives tale which you’ve added to over the years.”

A small, regretful smile crossed Adrian’s lips.

“I was about to get to that.

Both sides have been fighting for centuries with neither ever gaining any ground. The souls, driven mad by the constant bloodshed, by the eternal death and battle, have convinced themselves that all they need is one more worthy soul, one more warrior on their side to tip the scales, to reach victory. If you stay where they can reach you, on THEIR battlefield, for long enough they pull themselves from their graves just long enough to drag you down with them. There you join the battle, you fall into lines with whichever side you belong to and suffer for eternity beside them.”

One man managed to get out a few words through broken breaths.

“How long, is ‘long enough’?”

Adrian held the man’s eyes. He was a young soldier, too young to be out on a mission like this. To fight someone he could see he was brave enough to do, but an unknown enemy was too much.

Adrian sighed.

“One night should be plenty. And remember, if you’re chosen there’s nothing anyone can do to save you. It’s best if you stay silent, anyone who watches you get dragged away by souls of the dead are likely to go mad themselves.”

He stood from the camp fire and chuckled the tension instantly breaking.

“But don’t worry it’s all just a ghost story. I mean no one believes in the ‘First Battle’ anymore. Relax. Let’s get some sleep.”

He walked away, his men at his heels, left in silence his words began to ring in their ears once again and not a single man expected a sound night’s sleep that night.

Demitri ran to his side panting to keep up. A forced smile across his face

“You were kidding right? I mean it is all just a ghost story. Right… Right?”

Adrian laughed.

“Of course.”

As they walked further away from the camp the second paused to ask again, something about the response had seemed forced.

“You were kidding?”

Adrian sighed and shook his head.

“No, but I don’t want the troops scared. They’ll need a good night’s sleep to handle what’s to come.”

They both turned back, looking at the trembling, terrified men still seated around the camp fire, dreading going to bed. That answer didn’t really make sense either when you looked at the current state of the men.

“Then why did you say anything?”

He held his breath, he didn’t want to miss a word, this would be the punch line, it was a joke he just didn’t quite understand yet...

“Because. They deserved a warning.”