Children of Lordaine

It's been awhile but I'm gonna try and get back into my writing. Hope you guys like this; lengthwise it got a little extended, but the story got told, so I hope that's good. Please comment with reviews and tips or whatever, thank you.

“It’s midnight.” Yaro said, uncovering his mouth and looking up into the night sky. He stood quietly on the branch, one hand against the trunk for balance. He looked down at his companion, awaiting his response.

Ustrel, fiddling with a twig, looked up at Yaro and, finding him looking expectantly back at him, nodded in recognition of his statement of the time. Stretching out with a concealed yawn, he sat up and looked out towards the illuminated path. Seeing nothing, he returned to his seat against the trunk. “Damned Imperials,” he said beneath his deep red shawl, “late as usual.” He fingered his bow gingerly, pulling on the drawstring and making small thwack sounds.

They were both perched on two separate tree branches near each other. Under the light of the full moon, they watched the ill-used pathway that wound through the forest north of Vardangir. The woods were dark beneath the branches, but the path was lit surprisingly well. The silence, however, was unnerving. The moon watched ominously as the two waited for their target.

They were both soldiers in the new Children of Lordaine organization, a civil-militant movement, if anything. Its membership was low, but it indeed had much sentiment amongst the peasantry. The men of the Red Shawls, as it had come to be called by Imperial soldiers, were both young and ambitious. The first goal as stated when the group sent its ultimatum to Imperial command in Lordaine was, indeed, full independence of the kingdom from Imperial dominion. It was a lofty goal, and completely impossible for the incredibly small organization, but they did their best by pestering and disrupting Imperial activities all throughout the kingdom; whenever and wherever they could.

This was to be their first assassination of an Imperial official. He was Lordainian by birth, but no man considered him their brother in the realm. To them, he was a traitor; having sold out the people for an emperor over a thousand miles away. He feasted on the labor of the peasants, and slept in the comfort of his castle, while his people died of disease and hunger daily. The winter had been especially harsh this year.

But now the clouds were clear, and the chill wind light. Yaro and Ustrel sat in wait. Finally they heard the sound of a wagon cart slowly making its way north from the town. They had been made aware of the magistrate’s route. No one knew why, but every full moon the official ventured off into the wilderness on this very same route, and returned by the next morning. They had waited deep in the forest for hours; only two men, for the magistrate was never seen with bodyguards.

As the wagon and its driver came into view, the two young men stood up quietly, not even shifting a leaf. The wagon creaked as it went along the dirt road, and the driver kept his head down. He was hooded, and cloaked in a thick brown sheet. His gray hair fell out of the hood and made him look like an elderly man.

The two rebels drew their bows and took aim, but Yaro heard a slight jingle coming from the carriage. Releasing his bowstring carefully, he turned to Ustrel and raised his hand.

“What?” Ustrel whispered angrily.

“He has gold,” Yaro replied.

“Good for him,” Ustrel said shortly and re-aimed his shot.

“No,” Yaro held out his hand again, “it’s not the gold. I want to know who the gold is for.”


“Ahh,” Ustrel released his bowstring quietly, “so you want to follow him?”

“I want to see where he goes.”

“Be my guest then.”

“Come on, Ustrel.”

“Fine.”

And the two quietly climbed down from the tree as the wagon moved on, its driver completely unaware of their presence. They followed him north through the woods for several two or more miles, calmly remaining just behind him, taking care to make no sound at all. The forest seemed the entire time a wall of darkness compared to the well-lit path, and it loomed ominously over the pair as they followed from just inside the tree-line.
For a while, Ustrel continuously gave Yaro a look of contempt for delaying the kill. Why not just kill him and take the gold? he continuously thought. But after a little more than two miles, they came upon a steep hill that the wagon slowly began to climb. They followed the magistrate, and as they topped the crest, they came upon a sight neither of the assassins expected.

It was a massive temple; an ancient burial tomb, surrounded by large cairns and covered in vegetation and utter decay. But the wagon continued onwards toward the great complex, surrounded by forest except for the wide courtyard that extended out from two large doors at the front of the temple. They knew it was a burial tomb, as every ancient temple built by the first Lordainlings doubled as such. But why the magistrate was there, they knew not.

They followed closely behind now, but about halfway through the courtyard, the wagon turned back towards the hill and stopped. The two rebels hid themselves behind two different cairns before the driver spotted them. The magistrate quit his wagon and slid down from the seat. Slowly he walked up towards the temple as Yaro and Ustrel came out from behind the stone stacks.

They crept up from behind as the official slowly walked towards the gates. After a few moments, a loud shrieking came out from the temple, followed by howls and grunts and the sounds of metal sliding against stone. The magistrate stopped short when the door was swung open, leaving a shadowy opening in the temple.

Out of the gate came a great bestial creature, large and gray and covered in leather and furs. It was followed by a massive entourage of smaller creatures, all cackling and howling like wild animals. Some were armed with bows and arrows, others with swords and daggers of varying length. The large monster had a great axe that he held in one hand, while the other was free, and clenched against its side. Yaro and Ustrel had never seen such creatures before, and they trembled in fright at their appearance.

The official offered up his hands and bowed low to the leader of the beasts. “I have brought more gold,” the magistrate said, “more gold for you and your brood.”

The greater creature scowled and looked angrily at the small man. “No more gold,” it said in a simplistic tongue, “we no use for gold!”

The magistrate trembled and fumbled out some words that the two young men couldn’t hear. They had no place to hide now, and simply knelt in the grass. The monster became angrier.

“Why you bring other?!” it said, “You say you no bring other!”

The rebels knew they spoke of them, and suddenly the official turned around to see them for the first time. He was shocked, but quickly recovered and bowed once more. “Allow me to speak with them,” he said, “mighty chief.” A politician through and through.

The official turned about and slowly walked back towards the young men. As he walked, they saw the large monster gesture towards his smaller attendant. The creature nodded and notched an arrow upon its bow. Yaro shouted something incomprehensible as the arrow was released. The magistrate stopped and his face scrunched together in pain. He turned back a little and fell on his side.

The two young men stood speechless as the monsters looked at the dying man. Snow began to fall upon the temple complex, and the ground began to turn white. They dying official turned towards the rebels and gave out a last whisper.

“Orcs…run…” and his head fell back to the ground.

Yaro and Ustrel looked up from the man to the building force of the creatures. They looked at the wagon and then back at the temple; and then they rushed for the wagon. The leader of the creatures yelled and suddenly there was a rush of air as several arrows were loosed. The back of the wagon was coated, but luckily the horses were harmed. Ustrel howled with pain but continued to run. Yaro turned back quickly to see his friend’s stomach pierced by a long arrow. Finally they reached the wagon and hopped up onto the driver’s bench, stooping low to avoid the arrows as they swept over their heads. Yaro took the reins and they were off, much faster than the wagon had arrived. The arrows continued to rain but none hit either man or horse.

The horses were strong and the snow did little to impede them. They made quick haste and lost the monsters in the forest. Ustrel grunted in pain and his eyes teared up a little. Yaro guided the wagon to a stop and helped his friend down. The two shared a quick glance as Ustrel grasped the arrow. He yanked it out and roared with pain, and Yaro shook him.

“You know you’re not supposed to take it out, you idiot!” he shouted at his helpless friend.

“I know…I know,” Ustrel managed to get out between grunts, “it just…hurt…so badly…agh…” he rested his head against the wagon wheel.

“I don’t have anything for this,” Yaro said, almost shouting, “I didn’t expect this! No. No. No…Ustrel! Stay with me… No. No. No…” The blood gushed from the open wound, staining the white earth, “No. No. No... Please…” He had never experience this. He had never seen a wound like this. So much blood; too much blood.

Ustrel’s face was ghostly white and his pupils dilated so that his blue eyes seemed almost black. He looked at his friend as he breathed heavily, the sweat of his body mixing with the blood leaking from the arrow wound. Yaro was so worried. But he shouldn’t be worried. At least he died violently; he laughed at the thought, and thought for a moment about his family. Then he grabbed his friend by the back of the head and pulled him close with his last strength.

“Fight the good fight,” he said, “for Lordaine…brother…” and then he passed into the next world, and his body became heavy with death. Yaro clutched the body and held it close. He cried. He cried for his lost friend, and then for his family and for the cause. And he cried to know he would experience this feeling again, or that someone would feel it for him. And he cried for his friend once more. The snow fell gently on the earth; and the young man’s heart hardened.