Dawn In Shadow (fantasy)

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Very nice. Morningstar really reminds me of the Demon Hunter from Warcraft 3, albeit a more heroic and less sinister one.

 

Really good, ive been waiting for ages for a proper story post to appear, albiet the SP battle was rather humerous

 

Amother late entry I'm afraid. I've just not been in the writing mood unfortunatley, but I hope you'll enjoy this one. I doubt I'll be able to post regualrly again, but I'll try.

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Morningstar rolled quietly out from his bed. He had enjoyed one more ale before simply talking with proceedingly drunker Ryall until he had help him stumble up the stairs. This new world was a mystery to him. It was a lot more violent than Lathel, but it was the first time that Morningstar had ever tasted meat. He wondered, as well, why the elves never farmed. Since he’d left the forest he had seen nothing but farmland. Perhaps he’d ask Ryll when they were moving.

With that thought he nudged the man in the other bed with his foot. Ryll, suddenly alert, spun in his bed, a dagger in his hand. As he noticed Morningstar standing silently above him, he sighed, slipped the dagger back into its sheath from under the pillow.

Morningstar slipped on his boots as Ryll got out of bed. “What time is it?” the man asked, scratching himself and grunting, his apparent alertness gone now that no danger presented itself.

“Soon after dawn.” Morningstar answered. “I thought you would want to leave early.” Ryll nodded.

“Yes, you’re probably right. Go saddle our horses, no need to wake the stableboys. I’ll see if I can get that haggard old maid down stairs to give us some salted beef we can eat on horseback. We’re late enough as it is.”

Morningstar nodded, and passed down the stairs, moving out through the side doors and into the stable. The smell was appalling, making him gag, but he screwed up his mouth and passed through. He found his own white mare standing still and silent. It’s muscular, sleek frame made the other horses seem meager in comparrision. He smiled and patted her and rubbed her nose. Slipping a bag of grain over her head, he moved over to Ryll’s mount. Dusty red and stocky, an impressive, if unremarkable horse. He placed grain over its nose then moved back to his horse and saddled her, did the same for Ryall’s and then half jogged back into the common room.

Ryll was downstairs now, paying for his room and lifting a package of meat from the counter. “Ready?” he asked, and when Morningstar nodded, went to collect his horse.

When they were both mounted and onto the street, Ryll said “I’m curious. You appear to be blind, but you move with the speed and accuracy of the rarest warriors. It seems strange that you fight so well, and have no need of a stick when you walk.”

Morningstar’s mind raced “When I was younger,” he said as an idea was placed in his head, “I was near struck by lightning. I was hiding under a tree, waiting for the storm to pass, gazing at the sky and praying I would not be hurt, when lightining struck the tree. The light stung my eyes and I was blind for several days. When I regained my sight I made my way home, but my eyes still water heavily in sunlight.” Ryll seemed happy in the answer.

“So you’re not really blind then?” Morningstar shook his head “Did you catch that sign?”

“The Store.” Morningstar said smiling, hoping to prove he still had eyes.

“Ah, you can read too. You are a very interesting young man. A nobles runaway son, perhaps, hoping for adventure?” he laughed “All the same you lot.” Morningstar left him with his assumption, seeing no need to alter what Ryll was thinking. It was plausible as well, Morningstar carried a fine sword, rode a magnificent horse. Even his clothes and boots were of the finest quality. He would definitely stand out.

But then, this country was nigh on civil war. People may mistake him for a noble, and Ryll his man at arms travelling to offer their swords to their liege lord.

“Come,” Ryll suddenly said, “We must leave the road. I wasted enough time trying to recruit men in that hole.” Then, looking at Morningstar, smiled “Well, maybe just enough time.”

Turning his horses head he cantered onto a wide expanse of forest covered marsh ground. He seemed confident of where he was going that he even increased his horses speed. Morningstar followed more cautiously, careful to step only where Ryll stepped. He jumped when he heard the horses hooves on something solid, looking down he saw wooden boards, carefully hidden in the marsh ground. He smiled, then caught up with Ryll.

“A well concieved idea.” He said, “hidden rafting.” He smiled again.

“I thought so too.” Ryll said, “We must be quick, or others may see us.” And again increased his speed.

Ryll rode well, for a tall man, careful not to let his horse slip. Morningstar appeared to have the same skill, but it was actually his horse that was leading him, caring not to let itself slip.

For another hour they rode on, over the rafting and through the marshland. Morningstar was amazed at how large the whole thing was. It must have taken months, even years to build all of it, and then lay it down in secret, and cover it so convincingly. Amazing, was all he could think.

And then suddenly, the marshland was at an end and they moved out a hard ground forest edge, as they left the trees they moved onto an open plain, a hundred metres from the road. But there ahead of them, was something else. Eight men on horseback, and they had obviously seen the two riders, for they were turning to face them. Ryll swore “Sh*t.” He looked from side to side looking for a way out. Seeing none he swore again.

“Who are they?” asked Morningstar, Ryll glanced at him seeing the cold, hard face pointed at the riders. His confidence seemed to calm him somehow. Again reconfirming the strangeness of the young man.

“Men from house Daman. See the yellow cloaks.” He grunted, “We’re trapped.” The riders were galloping toward them now, hands on the hilts of their weapons. All were dressed in chain and mail, helmets on their visors down. As they came closer, Ryll swore once more. “Damn, I thought they would be new recruits. This is a patrol! Val, they search this part of the land in an attempt to kill recruiters of other houses. And today they hit pay dirt. F*ck!”

The riders were but a few metres away now, and they had slowed to a stop. The man in the middle rode forward a little closer lifting the visor of his helmet, an axe settled lightly on the horses neck. “A man from house Hraeth, hmm.” Directing his question at Ryll, “Well met again Ryll. Aren’t you going to introduce me to your… pet cripple.” Ryll spat, then said.

“This man is Reppin Wile. He was nearly the champion of the the Royal Melee, last year. Nearly.” Reppin smiled.

“Is this what house Hraeth is employing now? Blind children and women.” He laughed again, a bitter, bile filled laugh.

“May I have his axe once I kill him?” Morningstar asked Ryll. Reppin laughed with genuine humour. Morningstar smiled back, and suddenly his blade was in the air it’s black, glass smooth surface flashing in the morning sun as Reppin desperately parried with his axe. Reppin roared as he countered with a beautifully executed slash. His eyes opened wide as Morningstar swayed in the saddle, and avoided the sweeping blade. His surprise grew when he felt the cold of the blade as it sank into his groin, passing through the horses flesh and the saddle, and through his unprotected skin with a strong push from Morningstar’s wiry muscles. Reppin fell from his horse landing in the soft soil.

The other riders had barely realised that a fight had begun, and just as sudden, that there leader was dead. Morningstar raised his blood covered blade. Staring at the riders, just as Ryll smashed into them, His broadsword slashing the throat of one and crushing the armour of a second as Morningstar joined the fray. Morningstar’s horse lifted onto two feet, lasshing out with its feet, cracking one mans skull in a bloody pulp through his helmet. Ryll was trading blows with another soldier, His blade opening cuts where he could find openings, and denting armour when he could not.

Morningstar was fighting the last two, they were on either side of him, yet Morningstar was still parrying and blocking, and countering with deadly effect as one man lost his sword hand staring at the bloody stump as he fell from his horse and was dragged away by it. Suprisingly the other man did not run, but chose to continue his battle with the silver haired warrior. He slashed and hacked wide eyed and scared through the slits of his visor, until the ebony sheened blade pierced straight through it.

Ryll crashed an elbow into the man’s head, stunning him and rammed his sword into his throat. The soldier slid from the horse, gurgling on his own blood. Ryll spat on him and stared at Morningstar. “You bastard!” he roared, “You bloody bastard! Why did you do that, dammit? They could have killed us!” He stared at Morningstar, and noticed he was shaking. “Are you alright?” he asked, concerned.

“Give me a moment. I’ll be fine” he slid off the horses back, patting and whispering to the horse softly more for his sake than the horses.

“First fight?” Ryll asked. Morningstar shook his head,

“First against real fighters.”

“Well, you did well. Five soldiers is no mean feat! But unfortunately it also means you get a bigger share of the loot.” He smiled and dismounted walking over to Reppin’s body, lifting the axe from the dead fingers. He carried it to Morningstar “I think you want this.” Handing him the steel axe. “Folded steel, lucky bastard. He’s not so lucky now.” Laughing, he searched the other bodies for money and took the swords and daggers. “You got the axe, so I want the armour!” he said, as he yanked it over Reppin’s head. “In payment for not consulting me on the attack. Damn, what is that stink!” Reppin’s bowels had opened and the stench was dreadful, “Let’s get out of here. Leave the carrion for there own.”

 

Good work, keep it up and hurry up with the next part this time