Slowly, the arid dust cleared.
The rancid stench of metal filled the air.
Wild screeches reverbing across the open plain.
Quiet sizzling followed by eerie laughter .
The cacophony of sounds and smells all assaulted Valen. But he had no time to think about any of it as the grinning beast was already upon him.
Swinging its horn down, aiming to pierce the skull of it's adversary.
Valen side stepped, and tried to swing his spear only to find it weighed down by a mindless meat shield. Cursing, he let go and opted for a swift right hook into their ribs. Following up on the opportunity, Valen kicked it square in the knee. He knew their legs were weaker after all.
Spinning, Valen unsheathed his blade. This time not a wooden training sword, but a cold dark blue blade. Using his momentum he sliced across the belly of the enemy. As if sensing his intentions, the beast used it's freakishly long arms to push itself back. Narrowly avoiding the otherwise fatal attack. Then, it swung landing an backhanded swipe sending Valen flying.
Valen tumbled for a while, accumulating scrapes and cuts until coming to a stop against the village fountain. Struggling to his feet, he brandished his sword again, pointing it out to the right. To where his mother's grave lay. This was more than just a home, but a sanctum of peace for his resting mother. Then, Valen stood squarely across from the beast.
Valen lowered his stance as he remembered his brother's words. "You are only as strong as your footing."
Valen waited, waited for the enemy to make a move. "A fight is like a dance, controlling the tempo is key"
Then as the beast charged at him , his body exploded into movement. His feet planting firmly.
His hips turning. His sword being brought down with superhuman speed.
Squelch. Psshhh, pshhh.
Success! Valen rejoiced. He turned around, having successfully cut an arm off, this would be an easy victory.
"Huh?"
A fist the size of a torso collided with his head. Like a broken kite, Valen flew across the open square, landing atop a bakery's front stall, which promptly collapsed under his weight.
His eyes remained fixed on the hateful beast, but the pain and impact overpowered him. His vision blurred. His limbs failed. And slowly, mercilessly, his consciousness slipped away.
Cold. The cold breeze of a coming storm brushed against his face.
Heavy. The weight of the fallen stall silently crushed him.
A strange tingle in the air. Almost humming him to sleep.
Screams followed by cluttering metal.
The air gaining an ever present metallic scent. Slowly thickening into a suffocating musk.
Burning wood, singed cloth letting fiery embers billow in the wind.
A faint distant moan, then an abrupt crunch.
The faint cracking of ancient walls finally tumbling , the mossy cover having been scorched.
Gradually, Valen opened his heavy eyes. Weighed down by a thick mess of blood and sweat.
A half buried boot. An abandoned dark blue sword.
Old Brenn? Old Brenn lay meters away from him. His eyes locked on Valen's. Already still. Already lifeless.
Valen had no idea what had happened or how long he had been out for.
He knew one thing though. He had slept too long. In front of him , the one armed beast was chewing on Old Brenn's remaining leg. Having already lost a tooth to the wooden prosthetic.
A scream caught in his throat. The veins in his forehead bulging against his skin.
Dragging himself out of the wreckage , his clothes tore, ripped to shreds by hanging nails and loose splinters. Gripping his sword once more, Valen limped to the beast. The roar of fire masking his steps. The smell of flesh masking his scent.
And as the first drops of rain began to fall. Bringing with it a refreshing coolness, Valen struck true. Gritting his teeth, he lowered himself and severed the head of the vile beast from its abnormal shoulders.
As the head rolled, Valen's head tilted back. Letting out a guttural roar. As if challenging all those left to face him. But alas, they ran. Scared off by the sight of a larger predator. Valen.
Immediately, the remaining beasts scattered away. Fleeing into the dense forest having lost their leader.
Valen fell to his knees. Sobbing which clutching Old Brenn's body. Or what was left of it at least.
A small scuttling grabbed his attention. His eyes locking onto a small rodent scampering between burning buildings looking for refuge.
Eyes widening, Valen stood.
"I must search for survivors." He whispered with a hint of melancholy.
Stepping over the dead beast, he limped through the burning village. Suddenly finding its name , Ashford, to be quite ironic. Embers fluttered in the wind. Fires raged wildly against the unrelenting rain. Smoke billowing across the cloudy sky.
"Anyone there?"
"Is anyone still alive?"
"Am I alone?"
Valen was progressing steadily towards the church, dragging his trusty sword behind him. It was the designated refuge in times of war. It's stone walls having stood the test of time. A mark of the churches obscene wealth and influence.
It was the only building not burning in this hellish inferno. Like a beacon of purity, it's glistening windows felt .... Safe. It's chimney was billowing smoke, it's windows being briefly dulled by passing shadows.
Valen dragged his broken body to the door of the church. Knocking with whatever strength he had left.
"Who's there?" Responded a familiar voice. A voice that sounded like home.
"It's me, mother. Valen Bluescale."
What followed was a frantic mother opening the door for her eldest child. While she did not birth the young man. The bond between them was nothing short of a real familial bond.
"Get in here! My god, Valen you need to be healed!"
Shouted the old lady. It was her 70th birthday today, and was the reason his father would return.
"Happy birthday, Mom" Valen said, his attempt at easing her worries. It was only when she embraced his broken body did he realize how bad he was truly hurt.
"Lie down."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Lyra, grab me some water." Ordered the matron.
"Yes, ma'am." A quiet, unassuming voice chirped back. She was an outcast in the village, having being found by Valen in his youth. She did not interact with the other youths. Opting to cling to the motherly nun.
Valen scanned the room as his mother and Lyra the outcast silently cleaned his wounds.
Luckily, being an adoptive son of the nun, he had his own room in this church. And so had some spare clothes too.
Briskly undressing, uncaring for the looks he got, his wounds were cleant then bandaged.
As he donned his robes, he noticed there was about 10 guards, and 14 villagers. His uncle was not among them.
Valen's eyes locked onto his mothers. And braced himself up with her help.
"So... What's the plan?"
"Plan? What plan? What is there to plan? We are doomed! We are all condemned! This is divine retribution!" A crazed voice replied. The hand bandaged guard coward had managed to survive, it seems.
Strangely enough, Valen could find no wound on him, apart from his bandaged hand. An odd outlier among the adults who were bandaged head to toe.
"You said they were unkillable."
Valen slowly raised his voice.
"You lied."