The Warrior's Cry

The sunlight merged off the high plain hills, the dark red gleam signaling the coming tyranny. The starless sky left no room for hope, and in all moments the night seemed to doom them all. Like clockwork the people began gathering together, coming where it was safe. The other villages across the plains had begun to panic as their villages became fuel for the fire. A dark cloud settled across the vast sky, there were no stars, no hope and almost no view of an oncoming victory. 1

Explosions of bright light shot into the sky, they shot in colors of sapphire and violet. The recruited soldiers, who were merely the men of the town, formed a single line behind the warriors. The hills seemed to burn like fire, as the attacks descended down on the grassy plain. With one blow of the horn the Warriors from the reserve came galloping down on their snow white steeds, the recruited townsmen following behind them. The blood soaked ground had begun to sadden, and in the heat of battle the white horses and become a whine red their white coats becoming stained by the evil brought down upon the townspeople. There was on among them who was strong enough to withstand the magic...his name was Ganya. 2

He sat upon his black steed, pitch black blending in with the hue of night. He followed behind the ridge of warriors riding their already bloodied horses. Like a wave in the sea the enemy came at them. The two sides crashed together, spears plunging themselves into soft flesh. Blood spurted from the ground falling through the sky, falling amongst the soldiers and drenching their armor. Ganya plunged his horse into the battle, swinging his silver blade, knocking down enemy after enemy. His armor, gold plated and designed was barely seeable in the dark. In the moons bare light you could almost see a sheen of the gold tint, past the whine red. Ganya's sword was special. A gift from his father; who was a very powerful wizard. The emblem on the sword bore the intricate design of his family crest. Also a signet of his loyalty to his King. The small town of Meylfel, harbored the peacekeeper King Meinrad who cared for his people above all else. 3


The maids and servants clamored about in the castle, hustling about gathering what they would need. The soldiers left from the calling barred the doors and the gates. Below on the Eastern side of the castle two other soldiers were leading women and children below to the underbelly of the castle. Someplace they hoped would be safe, should the soldiers fail their task. King Meinrad gathered his council around him as they prayed for the soldiers victory. The King also prayed for his son, who was amongst the soldiers. 4


The sound of metal grating against metal filled the empty air, the screams of the distant men crowded the ears of the hopeful soldier. Ganya pushed forward, refusing to fall even as enemy soldiers pulled him down from his horse he still fought. From the corner of his eye he saw a familiar face,the kings son Mikhail, kneeled in the blood covered ground. The expression was one Ganya would not want to remember. It was a look of sadness, of death as the enemy sword plunged deep into his heart. Ganya's screams were almost silent to his ear as the scene unfolded before his eyes. 5

“Hallowed Hound!” came his hardened voice in the harsh sound of the battle. 6

Within moments of the single second more anger and hate filled his heart, and like a lightening bolt hitting the ground he flew from the enemies hands. He swung his sword like a wizard casting a spell, and launched himself into the oncoming group of the enemy. Sparks flew around him as his most powerful ability cast itself upon his enemies form. A dark ghostly hound came bounding from the sword and began to chew and gnaw at the bodies all around him. After devouring ten men Ganya returned his spell to the sword and bagan hacking away at the enemy. 7

Beneath his sheilded helmet lay the tears of a broken man. His emotions had gotten the better of him and in that moment it seemed as though he was consumed in his sadness. But like a wildfire consuming the dry grassy plain came his fury, a dark fury one which bristled with no remorse for action. He came against another foe, their blades met. The rhythmic motion of the heated battle caused Ganya to let out his frustration with his last swing. He looked back to see the body of his faithful comrade, and as he did he saw the last enemy fall. The crowd of men raised their voices in a unison of victorious shouts. 8

The sun began to rise in the sky, as the stars began to dim behind the suns eerie glow the battlefield had become the nightmare the warriors had always feared. After a tedious battle and the death of many comrades Ganya's men came out victorious. The soldiers spent the night in mourning, some for the King's son, but mostly for all the soldiers they had lost. Ganya was the least moved of the men, he would not let his feelings be shown in the eyes of his men. He needed to be strong and not weak in this time of sadness. He comforted his wife as she cried in his shoulder, many of the soldiers had loved ones in the town. Some had left to make sure they were still alive and unharmed by the enemies fire. Ganya allowed many of the men to leave, but the ones without families had to stay and protect the castle in case the enemy decided to attack again.
They began rebuilding the town, as the butcher's bill was too much for many of them to handle. They had lost so many men, brothers, fathers and sons; all of them too honorable for such a fate. 9

Such a battle, which had come to quickly and violently was considered a great loss; but also a great victory amongst the people of the lone village. 10

The city was once again safe, and though the loss of the King's son had planted a seed of sadness in the townspeople; Ganya meant to see it right. As a royal knight of the court he made the required amends for the lost prince. With the new dawn, came new hope.
The survival of a people had lasted, and was now written throughout the ages.
A memory in the people's eyes.
T