The Burning Homes

A tale of unlikely alliances, when the bitter human and elves unite to combat a foe whose madness knows little bounds, and of a future that will be decided by how their war is won.

Chapter One: The Burning Homes

 

                Raging fires dotted the burning husks of what few homes remained in the decrepit city.  Thick smoke obscured the normally starry skies, blotting out even the moon on occasion.  Sulfur stained the night air, choking few of the battle’s survivors and leaving them disoriented and nauseous.  The evacuation from the burning city was moving far too slowly.  The king’s forces had fallen beyond the horizon in defeat, but their retreat was only temporary.  Soon, their overwhelming numbers would return with their devastating magic arts and finish the destruction of this bastion of freedom.

                Raina slid against a nearby tree and loosed her grip on the broken rapier dripping with the blood of the slain.  She could not escape the horrible call of war.  A constant stream of evacuees spread from the city to the forest at her rear, where plans were already being made for their next step.  They numbered in the hundreds and not even half of them were properly prepared to fight should their life depend on it.  The elves would not survive another attack.  The unspoken fact was evident in their downtrodden faces.

                A slight breeze blew through the area, but she almost wished it hadn’t.  She could smell the approaching storm, though it was certainly a ways off.  Already too much was lost this night.  By the time the rain clouds descended on the burning town, it would be too far gone to even begin repairs.

                More silent than even the faintest breeze, an elf kneeled at her side.  “The king’s gone mad,” he spoke into her pointed ears.  “Even here, he seeks to kill any who do not bow to his beliefs.”

                Raina dared not to move her left arm " the open gash cutting from shoulder to elbow.  “No…he wants us to surrender,” she spoke as he stared at her arm.  “We suffered many casualties, but not as much as his army could’ve inflicted.  It was his goodwill that saved us this night.”

                He scoffed.  “Goodwill, you say?  If that’s the case, then let’s hope he decides to be less merciful next time.  Burning our only home is a fate worse than death.”

                “Va’n…” she muttered, biting through the sharp pain as he pressed his collection of leaves against the wounds.  Though she kept her eyes closed as he tried to mend her wounds, Raina envisioned the face of the man working fervently to fix her injury.  Her blonde hair mixed with his dark strands as he procured a bandage as began to wrap her injury.  Va’n’s handsome face was a prize for many of the younger female elves that had not learned to control their emotions just yet, a sign in the elven culture of their immaturity.  Always deep into his medical diaries, Va’n was often found in his home studying his field or collecting specimens in the deep forests.  Even now, with death now mixing with sulfur to foul the air, her keen nose could discern the various plants he carried.

                Her dark eyes glanced at his handiwork.  “Make it quick.  Our guests will surely see the fires and hurry to this location,” she said impatiently.  His grunt almost made her regret it " he was working fast.  Already, he had brought out a second roll of bandages and was wrapping her elbow.  She sat quietly until he was finished.

                “You’re placing a lot of importance in our ‘mutual’ allies.  You sure you want to-“

                She held her uninjured hand up.  “We trusted our king and this is how he repaid us to honor his vows to leave us alone.  I don’t trust anyone…but at least they share our mutual goal.”

                “And what goal is that, Raina?” asked Va’n, uncharacteristic worry creeping into his voice.

                Raina rose to her feet.  She picked up her shattered rapier, weighing the blade in her injured arm.  She could feel the soothing juices of the leaves working under the thick bandage, mending tissue and muscle and taking blood for sustenance.  Va’n often called them blood leaves, but that was an inaccurate term, as these leaves did not primarily feast on blood.

                Walking towards the forest where the evacuees would be gathering, she murmured to Va’n words that she never thought would ever come from her lips.  “The death of the king.”

Reviews

[Misguided-Ghost]

Well done! :) I like this, bery discriptive, just the way I like books! Keep going please! Can't wait to read next chapter! :)