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Legend of Auernia

Prologue

The night was still. Nothing stirred within the darkness, not even the insects. A thin blanket of mist had settled into the valley throughout the night, giving the area a creepy, sinister look. The moonlight pierced through the mist, lightly embracing the cold, hard earth. The mist parted as a silhouette riding a black stallion made its way down the uneven trail; a stranger in the valley. The clapping of the horse’s hooves reverberated off the surrounding forest, foreboding in it’s desire to consume the caravan from both sides. Whenever the wind blew, the hollows of the trees howled, the branches creaked, and leaves rustled; creating an evil atmosphere. In the center of nature’s wrath, stood six wary guards, patiently awaiting the arrival of the rider.

No words were spoken. The six guards broke into two rows of three, and each row walked on either side of the rider. The moonlight was their only guide, which made the trail even more dangerous. The guards grew more anxious as the wind began to come in stronger gusts, as if anticipating an attack. On several of these occasions, the guards would draw their swords in a sharp twang that would resonate through the forest, as if they stood in a large cavern.

As they trudged slowly down the trail, the mist began to thicken. Visibility was so poor, the guards had to maintain contact with the horse at all times to prevent any of them from going astray. Snap! The sound of a stick snapping in two exploded in front of them, causing the horse to rear in alarm, and the guards to draw their swords surrounding the horse in a frantic attempt to protect the rider. Twang! Arrows whistled through the air, bombarding the travelers. The horse shrieked in pain as one of the arrows pierced it’s neck, causing it to collapse. The rider jumped with inhuman speed from the steed, landing silently on the ground nearby. A flame suddenly erupted in front of them, catching several trees on fire.

The flames danced as embers swirled through the air, particles of a furious battle. Evil shadows were cast upon the surrounding landscape, shining an evanescent light upon the figures standing in the fog. Five of the soldiers were still standing, shields raised. The other was curled in the dirt, wincing in pain. He had his shield on top of him for protection. He had several arrows protruding from his legs. The rider was garbed in foreign, black clothing. He wore a cloak that obscured most of his body. He was tall, his crimson hair flowing to his mid-back. His eyes matched his hair, as his gaze burned into the presence of his enemy.

Eighteen men encompassed the entirety of the travelers, circling them with no means of escape. All of them had bows trained on the rider. The soldiers were ignored. One of the men stepped forward, obviously the leader of the group. He was a muscular, burly man with a disfigured face hidden by a long, curved nose and a knotted black beard that curled to his chest. He was the only man who didn’t have a bow, instead, he carried a spear.

His voice sounded like boulders crushing a corpse. He pointed at the rider. “By the authority of the demon hunters, you are hereby placed under arrest. If you resist, we will use any means necessary to contain you, even if it causes death.” The man waited patiently for the rider to respond.

“Very well.” The rider’s voice was deep, and smooth. The leader’s hand twitched. Thud. The leader’s face contorted in pain as he fell to the ground, with an arrow penetrating his neck. The rest of the men loosed the arrows at the rider. In a blur of motion, he caught all of the arrows. He dropped them, and regained a straight composure. His voice was stern. “Run.” The men screamed in terror, many of them even dropping their bows in the process. He picked up the wounded soldier, and they all silently continued down the trail. Behind them, the flames of war danced in the blood from the fallen leader.