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Hellsword: The burning city

Prologue

The cursed world

This world looks so similar to ours… But first impression is misleading here magic and mystical creatures are a norm. But this world has never known peace… Thousands of spears shine in the sun as human soldiers stand side by side to hold of a horde of green skinned orcs – every one of them stronger than a full grown man. They are savage creatures, whose only purpose is war. But no matter how barbaric they are, they shouldn’t be underestimated, each of them is able to create basic weapons and armor. And their smiths are able to create weaponry which even though is crude, but able to rival those created even by best of human blacksmiths.

Goblins ascend from the deepest corners of the world, – cousins of orcs, weaker than a human, but exceeding every race by deviousness. They are sly and cunning creatures, who have a terrifying grasp in guerrilla warfare. Traps and ambushes are their forte.

From the deepest tunnels pour and stream armies of ratmen – a race created from stupidity of alchemists. Nobody is sure, how did they escape, they were supposed to be weapon against humanities enemies, to grind them in war of progress and attrition. You could say alchemists exceeded themselves creatures escaped, and in few years rose from basic savages, to humanities level and took over a continent.

And in the furthest north, in the front of the gates of hell, endless army of cursed undead, chaos born demons and other creatures of chaos are lining into battle formations in front of 13 lords of chaos. But humanity itself isn’t united. Even in these indeed dark times betrayal and corruption follow the tribes and nations man. Entire kingdoms start to worship chaos, at the same time there are steady increases numbers of creatures born of perversion like half-orcs and beastmen. And these are only a pair of a hundreds of curses that have befallen humanity.

But the kingdoms of man aren’t the only ones warring for light in this dark world. Dwarfs- ancient, long-living, created from stone if we would believe in myths, fight beside them. They crush endless hordes of goblins and ratmen which attack their tunnels and underground cities. Their might is increased by miracles of science and technology. Enemy breaks against them like a wall, their will is unbreakable.

From their forest homes advance the elves, every single one of them have the strength of five full grown men, eternal life and the power of magic at their fingertips. Even though they are a peaceful and druidic race that doesn’t mean that they aren’t able to fight. Each of them has perfectly mastered their weapon of choice, and is ready to use it. They don’t have the humanities numbers, nor dwarf technological progress, but their magic moves the earth itself, they are served by creatures, who were old when humanity was young.

And from their isle kingdoms in the far south sail the half-elves. This warrior race knows no fear. They can be thought as the most powerful race: they live forever, every single one is stronger than a mortal man also they can use magic, but… The strength of these powers differ greatly and rarely match elven ones. But from their human ancestors they inherited ability to give birth to more children, they grow far faster, achieving adulthood at the extremely low for long races age of 40 rather than the elven 100 and they don’t have the frailty of elves. Even more frightening is the fact that they are served by creatures which in past ages brought only death and destruction to others…

The war is fought by three great alliances: United alliance of light- Diplomatic only in dark times formed alliance created by several human, elven, dwarven and half-elf domains. The name of this alliance rises from its member’s belief that they bring light to this cursed world. The endless horde- a brutal alliance of orc, goblin, ratmen and half-orc empires, kingdoms and tribes, which fight together only when powerful warlords unite them.

And the last of the great factions… Chaos- The united army of all that is twisted and perverted: undead, demons, unholy fusions of man and beast, cultists of all races, the dark north warriors and hundreds of other creatures. They are readying for a march to the south and flood the world in blood of its inhabitants. Once 3000 years ago they were defeated… In time when human realms have just started to rise, when halfelfs had just united. Then chaos charged the first time. They fell, but time heals all… And this time they forces are tens of times bigger. They shall charge, and when they shall find their legendary weapon and shall spread the chaos realm across the world.

Tens of smaller factions and races live in this cruel world. Vampires – who fight in every one of these alliances, their aim benefit or acknowledgment by their kin. Ogres – race made from 4 meter tall monstrosities who like a disease claim entire cities. Lizardbloods – A race similar to ancient animals, which hide in the jungles of third continent. Trolls – giant, grey skinned people of mountains who always burn and destroy villages of other races. Giants – Enormous creatures, they live only on highest mountain peaks and serve only themselves uncaring of the world. Night elves –Distant relatives to elves, who created an utopia in the South Pole. Gnomes and fairies – The cousins of the beautiful race in which forests they dwell. And that’s only a small part of all the myriad creatures that inhabit this world.

Warriors are ready for war again; men join into alliances that were forgotten for ages. This time a million of spears shine in the air. Endless ranks of infantry, accompanied by packs of cavalry on earth. And in the air fly rank upon rank of griffons – huge half-lion, half- eagle creatures, hippogriffs – half-eagle, half-horses and pegases – horses with wings, each of these arcane beasts is a mount of a mighty hero.

Perfectly even dwarf lines march near the human army. They are followed by far less disciplined quarrelers or even gunners – the deadliest infantry unit on the battlefield. They are accompanied by steam powered war mechanisms. No cavalry, but the stone people don’t use animals for anything, everything is accomplished by steam machinery.

From the near forest surface scattered elves, they are armed with weapons of their choice. No structure or formation. In front of them, on their perfectly white mounts moves cavalry. Over their heads fly the ancient dragon knight order. Their members, humans and elves, have unimaginable power, each one of them is strong as hundreds of warriors, they fight to restore the peace to the world. No matter the cost… From their sides fly elf nobles and mages, mounted on hundreds of magical creatures that serve the elves.

On the coastwise of the river stops a huge flotilla of black ships. Bridges open only to reveal rank upon rank of perfectly lined up halfelves. In their front move lines of drakes –wingless but far more armored cousins of dragons. Even though they are smaller than true dragons, they have the same intellect and strength. From the upper deck rise wyverns – another member of the dragon family, whose front legs and wings have merged, on each of them rides a halfelf noble.

In the vanguard move human and elf chariots and dwarf steam wagons. In the rearguard align human and dwarf catapults and cannons, elf repeater bolt throwers. In the flanks small bands of mercenaries and vampires ready themselves.

In front of the allies moves a sea of green, black and brown. Without any order goblin, orc, half-orc, and ratmen platoons roar battle cries. In their ranks are scattered riders riding on such impossible mounts as massive rats, huge wolfs and boars, bulls, and sometimes rarely brown drakes. Huge amounts of chariots, cannons and catapults, but these look unfinished, brutish, even such pragmatic races like dwarfs and halfelves give more though to the aesthetics. But the endless horde doesn’t care, they only care for the destruction their weapons can bring. The sun is blocked out by titanic bats. The warlords who ride them are far stronger and more intelligent than simple soldiers, as only warriors like these can tame or break creatures who are powerful enough to battle dragons.

Two million strong armies clash. Blood flows in rivers. Even legendary soldiers, such as halfelf Deskein family members, dragon riders, god blessed humans, and even the oldest vampires don’t know if they survive.

And then the battle is joined by chaos. Millions of undead and beastmen charge like an endless wave, hundreds of thousands of warriors and cultists, crush any organized opposition. And even when these are pushed back, demons start ripping through the veil of reality, called by the chants of their worshippers and spilled blood of their enemies. Riders charge into the battle lines on every single possible creature, and even several species which shouldn’t even exist. Between their ranks roar twisted creatures of unimaginable size. In the rearguard move hell cannons, demon possessed machines of pure destruction. The sky over the advancing chaos army is filled by chaos twisted dragons, wyverns, griffons and other similar monstrocities, who are in turn dwarfed by the demonic chimeras.

The battlefield turns into a hell scape. Alliance quickly gives up and starts retreating, supported by catapults and cannons.

The endless horde and chaos are left to rip each other apart. And even though hordes ferocity can match the endless hordes of chaos, chaos wins. With flowing rivers of blood gates open for the hordes of demons can materialize in the physical world. Hordes army is torn apart, and chaos advances destroying every city and village in their path.

And that’s only a tiny part of what is happening in this world. And even though this world is massive, far greater than ours, chaos destroys all. Nothing can really turn back the tide. When one army is annihilated, far more monstrous attacks after a blissfully short time of peace, only ratmen can gather greater numbers. But that can only slow down the advancing tide, because the servants of chaos are endless and their numbers are restored easily. The warriors of the north are ready for war, when a normal human would only begin the second decade of his life. Chaos cults grow endlessly; their members always join the advancing chaos armies. Beastmen grew from small groups of mutants into endless hordes, who are able to gather such massive armies, that they are able to match ratmen in a war of attrition.

Even the Endless Horde, an alliance of races who only get stronger during a war can’t stand on their own.

The last invasion began three years ago, and even if the peace lasted for half a century, it was not enough to prepare for the endless advance of the endless armies of chaos.

Leaders of the alliance are starting to realize, that even if they are starting to use prototype technology, ancient magic and weapons, readying and training greater and greater armies, creating dangerous and unstable alliances with more nations and tribes, they will still lose this war, which is causing eternal enemies to stand side by side. Their only hope has become scattered squads of powerful heroes and fighters travelling the world in the search of the same weapon as chaos – The hell sword, which by the legend was the weapon which 3000 years ago pushed chaos forces back.

And as they search for this weapon, the world is fighting most brutal and savage of all wars. Welcome to one of many worlds, cursed by chaos, this is Rahen.

Chapter one: The burning city

“Mortel, wake up.”

With a shook, young human male woke up. He stood up, still wearing his armor from keeping the watch. He looked around, only to see a dimly illuminated forest; the only light source being a small campfire to his left.

“Isn’t this too early? The sun hasn’t rose yet, sir.

The last word rang with a sub note of jealousy. Soran perfectly understood how the teenager felt, so he didn’t reply to the bitterness of the last sentence. While they looked more like peers, Mortel has only recently turned sixteen, while Soran was over a hundred years old. The situation wasn’t helped by the fact that Soran while being a halfelf, didn’t look like one. This was surprising, considering, that Soran was a Deskein. Deskeins were the first house of halfelves. He was massive, near seven feet (2.1 meters) and bulky, which was rarely a build of a halfelf. His facial features also weren’t really elvish ones: dark, short, unkempt hair, indistinguishable cheekbones, slightly sharp ears, and an average nose, these features while not being disgusting, somehow made Sorans face slightly revolting.

Mortel looked quite similarly. He was also tall, over six feet (1.8 meters) muscular and broad shouldered. Similar to Sorans facial features, except the human had brown hair and blunt ears.

“Today we won’t be training, we have bigger problems.” Halfelf turned his head to a tree which was growing near their campsite. “Varten what’s the status”

An elf appeared in front of the three. He raised his hand to his face and threw his long silver hair over the shoulder, revealing typical elven features. Prominent cheekbones, big blue eyes, extremely sharp ears. The only difference between Varten and a female member of his race would be the fact, that Varten didn’t have puffed lips. He build was also elvish, he was lean and tall, higher than Mortel by at least few inches (2.5 centimeters)

“At this rate Sankel will burn to the ground in a few hours. You know humanities inability to defeat the annual newborn necromancer invasion doesn’t surprise me.”

Sankel was the city they were hoping to reach in two days. They needed to refill their supplies and hear the news about the approaching war with chaos. They have been in the wilderness for better part of the spring.

“Looks like we’ll have to turn those odds”

“But how will we reach the city if it’s two days away?” Mortel interrupted, curiosity shining in his eyes.

“An old, and very powerful spell, we will teleport.”

“You can do that?”

“We don’t have time, gather your weapons, every second is important.” Mortel quickly started gathering his gear, when he heard the order.

He was armed and armored like a professional soldier. He wore a chainmail, greaves, long wristlets and a basic helmet. He was armed with a spear, a shield and a one handed sword.

This was a far cry from what Soran and Varten wore.

Soran wore something resembling a modified halfelf officer uniform. He wore black, loose fitting pants, a grey tunic, a faded black cape, without any medals and a pair of dark colored heavy boots. He was armed with two swords: A long sword, black of color, with name “Nightbringer” written on the blade and a short sword, of normal silvery color. Both of these were currently attached to his belt. Soran didn’t wear any armor, as his fighting style required to either wear no armor, or a full plate, which would be impractical to move around.

Varten wore green tunic, brown pants, riding boots, even though they haven’t seen a horse for about half a year, a battle-grey cape and brown leather gloves. He was armed with a U – bent bow and two silver daggers, adorned with gems.

When Mortel gathered his weapons, he walked to Varten, who put his hand on the humans shoulder and they both disappeared. Soran sighed and mumbled the spell.

Mortel fell down on one of the roofs of a house. Varten materialized near him. The young man stood up and looked around.

“Why don’t we use this all the time?”

“Firstly, energy consumption, secondly, you need to know perfectly where the destination is, lastly, look at Soran”

The half- elf materialized right behind them. His materialization was different; he didn’t simply appear as it looked like he ripped thru the material plane. Deskein fell on his knees, and spat blood. Mortel ran to him and tried to give him a hand, but Soran rejected help. He stood up on his own.

“Why?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Deskein ran to the edge of the roof, drawing out his swords, and jumped down into the sea of zombies. He started literally ripping them apart with every swing.

Varten fallowed him, leaving Mortel by himself to find a way down. The young man also jumped down, but when he slipped on a crushed zombie and fell down. By the time he was in fighting condition the street was already cleared, as Soran and Varten have slaughtered all of the zombies, which let the human soldiers regroup. Mortel easily integrated himself into their ranks, as nearly half of his training was spent on training him to fight in typical human formations. To say the very least Mortel really disliked it, as even thought his tutors didn’t speak about it, his training showed that he was not even close to being looked as someone who could be like them. Both of them were trained as solo fighters, not really soldiers, but something more akin to champions. They fought enemy warlords and champions similar to them, while he was stuck as a basic grunt, an elite grunt, but still nothing more. This made his blood boil. Why would he, a warrior trained by one of the Deskeins, be a simple infantryman, while some high-born milksop would ride around in full plate armor fighting against elite of the elite.

But he knew that this could be easily changed. He only had to become a dragon rider. This idea started to come to him when he heard that dragon riders were picked from every level of society, as with the level of attrition they were taking, they didn’t have the luxury to choose who to take. Anyone could go to the dragon egg and see if it chooses them, this meant that Mortel could become as powerful as his tutors, he would become a hero, a warrior of light, and he could destroy all of the orcs…

His years of training let him fight without thinking about it, so when he came back to his senses he found himself in a middle of dimly lit alley. It looked empty. But then something rose from the ground. It was like a constantly changing shadow. It reached into the human’s side, only to be pierced by an arrow of light. The creature disintegrated. Varten landed in its place.

“What the hell are you doing so far from the main lines, it’s unsafe to go to these parts, during a necromancer invasion.” Varten started berating Mortel. But before he could retaliate something laughed.

“Oh, you can’t imagine how dangerous it is.” An unknown voice exclaimed.

Mortel wasn’t able to react before everything went dark, and his lifeless body dropped to the ground.

Soran chopped of a head of a zombie and threw his swords into another ones chest, which nailed him to a burning house, which finished the job. Then he grabbed a spear of another walking corpse, and ripped it’s head off with his arm. He ran to the nailed corpse, drew out his swords, and returned to chopping other ones.

Quickly, the plaza was empty, all zombies killed, and all troops moving out from the area, to support their comrades in other parts of the city. Soran was readying to leave the area when he heard a voice:

“Aren’t we in a hurry?”

The halfelf turned around only to see a cloaked figure standing on the roof of one of the houses. In each of his hands he held a lifeless body. It laughed and jumped down.

Now Soran could see what the figure was holding in his hands, it was Mortel and Varten, when he concentrated he could still fell their life energy, but someone who was able to knock out Varten was a dangerous creature, which shouldn’t be underestimated.

The figure jumped down and dropped the bodies on the ground. It then ripped its cloak of to reveal a vampire in bright red plate. His pale face deformed by an inhuman grin. The monster drew out his sword; it was the same color as the creature’s armor, decorated with rubies and diamonds.

Soran put his one handed sword back into its sheath and gripped Nightbringer with both of his hands.

He isn’t a member of the bloodlines, he is neither deformed, nor has any other defining features. He can’t be strong, can he? Soran tried to reassure himself, last time he fought a vampire it didn’t end very well for him.

“So we will just keep looking at each other, or actually duel?” Vampires grin only got bigger as it saw that halfelf was afraid. “Or are you afraid, boy?

“Maybe you should introduce yourself, before your head leaves your body?” Soran tried to buy time, to cast a spell.

“You are brave, half breed, I can respect that. I’m Gariel, from house Kreon”

Kreon, not even thousand years old, I expected something more.

“Kreons… Wait, aren’t you slaves for the Strigoi?”

“You dare to mock me?! How dare you, a filthy half breed, mock me?” Vampire roared, his more primal side started to show as his face started to look like a snout of an animal.

“The same way I will kill you!” Soran charged at the creature, swinging his sword. His weapon touched the red armor at the same time as the strengthening spell kicked in. The Nightbringer ripped through the magical protection, the front of the vampire’s armor and its body, covering itself in blood. The creature took a step back, surprised that his protection wasn’t perfect. He wasn’t ready for the fact that Soran being a halfelf would use a spell that would rip apart his muscles.

The creature fell onto his knees, seemingly dying, but for some reason laughing. Soran raised his sword to cut down his foe. Then every house around the plaza exploded, shockwaves of which threw Soran town to the ground. He stood up; only to find that Gariel healed himself using the energy of people he killed by the spell.

Both opponents gripped their swords more tightly, and charged at each other. Black and red steel crashed, sparks flying in the air.

Slashes from right, from left, up, down, stabs, punches and kicks. The opponents seemed equally matched at whatever way they tried to harm each other. Even though Gariel, had greater speed, agility and skill, this was equally matched by the endurance and strength of Soran, who was still able to keep up the strengthening spell.

It appeared that in the long run Soran, who could fight for extended periods of time, would win. But something just didn’t seem right; Gariel didn’t show any signs of fatigue even though they were dueling for a long time on equal ground. Soran even needed to weaken the spell to not rip up his muscles.

The sun already reached the zenith, the battle was finishing, but the duel continued as neither of the combatants gave up. Soran kept attacking even though strengthening spell stopped working and his arms were shaking from fatigue, but the vampire still didn’t show any signs that this duel had any effect on him.

And then he started laughing.

“This was a fun game, but now it’s time to finish it.” The creature started burning with a black aura, a typical color, for an undead creature, or a creature of a chaotic nature.

“You weren’t even dueling seriously?”

“Of course, such a pathetic creature like you could never match my levels of power.”

“You are testing my limits.” Sorans eyes started getting darker, as with anger building up he lost more and more control.

“And what will you do? You could barely fight me, at half of my power!”

Even if he didn’t want to admit it, Soran still had the pride so typical to someone from aristocratic families, and so he didn’t really thought thru, what he was about to do.

“You dare to mock a Deskein, you fell beast!” He snapped, his voice getting lauder with each word.

“Deskein, so that means…” The vampire wasn’t able to finish, as Soran interrupted him with one word.

“Shandrakor” A pillar of black energy erupted from where the halfelf stood. This lasted only for a second, but it burned out a crater in the ground. Soran stood in the middle of it. He didn’t really change, but his ears became longer, his hair longer, his muscles visibly bigger, and his eyes became black with white pupils.

“Really, that’s it? I expected something more drastic, not something an elvish teenager would have thought out.

“Comes from a soon to be dead vampire” Soran disintegrated.

Gariel flew back as his nose was broken by Sorans punch. The halfelf formed in front of the vampire and lifted him by his right hand, while preparing to impale the creature with his sword.

“For all of your crimes, including, necromancy, slaughter, destruction of property and insulting a Deskein, Gariel of house Kreon, with my Divine power I sentence you to death!” Soran tried to impale the vampire, only for the creature to rip his own right hand off and roll away from the attacking Deskein.

The vampire jumped onto his feet and grabbed a flask from his belt, and started drinking it. Red aura engulfed him, as whatever magical creatures blood was in the flask started having its effect.

His hand quickly grew back, its muscle mass was clearly increased. The vampire’s eyes also quickly became red, as the magical blood quickly spread through the rest of his body.

Gariel charged Soran and punched him, throwing him back. Vampire then grabbed his sword, which had fallen on the ground. He then jumped in front of the halfelf, put his hand forward, and screamed.

“Disappear!” Soran was covered in flames, which rose high in the air. Gariel started laughing as he thought his enemy was defeated. Only for a hand to reach out from the flames and grab his arm.

Soran rose from the flames at the same time ripping of the struggling vampire’s hand of.

The halfelf seemed extremely changed. His skin turned into scales of ranging from grey to flesh colored, Fangs protruded from his mouth, and his fingers became claws.

The creature then grabbed the vampires head and ripped it off. He then roared, releasing a wave of energy, killing everything in a few streets around the plaza and absorbing their energy. It then started moving to the closest living creatures, destroying everything in its path, Nightbringer burning black in his hand.

Varten opened his eyes and stood up. He was in a plaza, destruction surrounding him on every side, dead bodies, were scattered around, and in the middle of it, there were scattered remnants of someone in red armor, most certainly a vampire, which had attacked the city.

Elf looked around, but couldn’t see Mortel, he was gone somewhere. But now Varten had bigger problems. The only creature which could cause this destruction and kill a vampire powerful enough to command an army of undead by himself, and that creature was Shandrakor.

Varten drew out one of his daggers and pressed the diamond on its handle. A message was sent, this should guarantee that everyone powerful enough to combat the creature will be heading this direction as fast as they can.

Varten ran to the closest not completely destroyed building and ran to the direction from which the greatest amount of energy was coming. It was either the rest of population, trying to escape the destruction, or Shandrakor. Either way he would find the monster at some point, so he needed to be ready to combat it. He tried to draw his bow and an arrow, only to find that they were broken. He put them back in. He neither had time or resources to fix his bow, and even then his arrows wouldn’t really have an effect against the scaly and hardened skin of Shandrakor.

He kept running on the destroyed buildings jumping through the collapsing rubble.

The street over which he ran was surprisingly empty. It seemed that human battalions were smart enough to retreat from the advancing monstrosity and not to confront it. Well at least, most of them, there were several knights, or at least heavy armored troops, who tried to confront the creature, as their ripped apart and heavily mutilated remains were scattered all around. And then Varten spotted something, which surprised him.

A giant pentagram, comprised of many geometrical figures was located in a crossroad, between two wide streets. Its star had around thirty points, which meant that there were almost thirty mages powerful enough to try to stop the monster, a surprising number for a city of this size.

It was drawn very well, for something which was made in a few hours, and extremely complex. It seemed as those mages knew what they were dealing with, or not, considering that half of the points had burned in marks, which could only mean that they burned their life away giving the pentagram energy.

The center from which the spell would shot at the target, or preferably the target would be standing, was surrounded by thirty or so rings of text in different languages used by all types of magic users. One of those rings caught Varten eye, it seemed familiar for some reason, even if Vartenn couldn’t read it.

And then his mental barrier fell. Power engulfed his every cell, as the spell broke the lock on most of his personality. Varten was no more. His daggers started glowing, sending another message to those who got the first one.

They have begun the charge, tens of thousands of men, dwarves and elves moving in a massive wave towards the fortified goblins. Typically this would be a pure waste of manpower, but they got a message which told that a huge horde of ratmen was approaching, and with the positions which they had currently, they wouldn’t be able to survive such battle. The only option was to crush the goblins and using their heavy weaponry rearm the fortress complex. And so, they charged like insane, getting support from the hundreds of dwarf cannons.

Hundreds of them fell as goblin handguns and cannons fired at the wave, but quickly the first elves reached their positions slaughtering through the frail, compared to them creatures. Then they quickly retreat behind the advancing ranks of human spearmen, who proceeded to annihilate any formation of goblins thrown at them. Dwarfs followed them from the sides, preventing any attempts at counterattack.

Quickly the city was overtaken, but nearly half of their army was dead. This meant that the wait for reinforcements would take even longer, as more troops would need to be sent to reinforce them. But this wasn’t a problem for him right now; the diamond on his sword began blinking at first with red light, and later with yellow. The red glow was a problem on itself, but the yellow… If he had truly regained all of his personality and power, the world will be drowned in blood once again. So it seems that he will need to leave this battle for now. He whistled and a giant shadow descended from the sky.

“So they revealed themselves?”

“Yes my mistress” The armored figure replied.

A female, sitting in a middle of a dimly lit room, laughed. Even with only moonlight, you could clearly see her fangs shining in the moonlight.

“Good, prepare everything for departure.” The armored figure bowed, stood up and walked to the door. He opened the door. Several beams of light were thrown into the hall, illuminating the room in which the female sat.

It revealed another female, chained to the wall, blood dripping from several small wounds on her hands. Her eyes and mouth was covered by dark fabric.

As the door closed, a dark shadow emerged from one of the walls; it held a goblet in its hands. It walked to the chained female and pressed the goblet to one of the cuts, the goblet filled with blood. Then the shadow walked to the female sitting in the throne and gave her the goblet.

“Thank you” The figure responded by bowing down and moving back to the shadows.

The female stood up and walked to one of the windows. She moved the curtain, to reveal a panorama of a sleeping city. She smiled, this is the last time she sees such magnificence. Next few months will be spent in some backward nation, trying to hunt down a certain someone, who keeps interfering with her plans. And after they are dead, nobody can interfere with her plans anymore.

She looked up; giant creatures appeared over the city en masse, descending upon it.

She sipped the goblet. Blood of a young noble virgin, she just loved the freshness and sweetness of it.

The giant creatures descended on the plazas in complete silence. Hundreds of figures started climbing onto them, after a few dozen figures sat upon the giant creatures they flew to the sky again.

“Well time to go” She murmured to herself before finishing the goblet. Spinning around and walking to the door. The night will be long and very interesting.

“Well it seems everything is finished, here are the documents” The man pushed several leaves filled with print to her, each marked with a coat of arms.

“Thank you…” She smiled.

“Just get going” The man stood up and walked to a window. “And remember, this was an act of desperation and not of generosity, you are still far too dangerous to be in public with other people, so you better find yourself a place to live. You are not welcomed here.”

“Understood” She stood up and walked out of the room.

As she walked out of the building one of her underlings ran to her and showed her the crystal, it was glowing red and yellow. She smiled and looked up as a giant shadow eclipsed the sun.

The door swung open, and a worried soldier ran into his cabinet.

“My lord, the diamonds have begun to shine!”

“Which ones?” He stood up and walked to a map depicting the continent of Elvanet, several differently colored markers were put on it. They were of these colors: yellow, red, purple, and the last one, black.

“All of them, my lord, all of them”

“Send the raven legion”

“To which one”

“To their general of course”

“Understood, my lord” The soldier turned around and walked out of the cabinet.

He moved to the map, and removed the markers. These monsters will reveal themselves soon enough, he doesn’t need this speculation anymore. Then he walked to the window and sighed, he has gotten tired of all of this, but it seems it will never end.

Mortel woke up in a dimly lit building so high he couldn’t see the ceiling clearly. He stood up and looked around. It seemed that he was standing in a temple. Countless statues stood around him, each one of some sort of deity, at least it seemed so, because several of these deities were worshiped in several nations, he had traveled through. There were so many statues, that he couldn’t see the end of it.

“How big is this place?” The young man wondered to himself.

He started walking around the building looking at the statues. They were perfectly made from light stone, or metal. But further he walked; the stones became cruder and made from darker materials, they were still well crafted but they appeared to be somewhat imperfect and strange, like they had some sort of dread surrounding them. And as he walked further this feeling increased. He kept walking, he didn’t know why, but he kept on walking. It seemed like his legs moved by themselves, as Mortel couldn’t even feel them.

And then he suddenly stopped in front of a dark statue. He couldn’t see almost any features, but it seemed to be a massive wormlike creature. He tried to touch it, only for the statue to start glowing, as red veins lit up on the black stone.

It was a giant statue of a dragon. It looked ancient, carved with a master’s touch, of such mastery, that the creature looked alive.

The creature was positioned sitting on its hind legs and holding his front paws in front of its body, and in those pawns, Mortel sighed, was a dark red dragon egg. It looked like more of a diamond, than an egg of a living creature, but it couldn’t be, as red veins were pulsing on it.

If Mortel would touch this egg, his dreams could come true. He could be a powerful warrior, he could be the ideal he always wanted to be, he could avenge his family and eradicate all orcs…

“Admiring the statue of Bahamoth? A voice suddenly interrupted Mortels thought.

“Who is this?” The young man responded.

“A friend or enemies, depending on which side you are standing” A figure came out from the shadows. It wore a dark robe, with golden runes on it. “I am the guardian of this temple; it’s my duty to protect these statues of ancient deities.”

“Why? What’s the use in it?” Mortel was confused, why would someone protect simple statues? Besides, there was nothing to protect from.

“Do you know how gods get their power young one?” The hooded figure asked.

“No, of course no, I am not some sort of cleric.”

“One day you will… “The hooded figure walked to Mortel. “But now, your destiny waits!” The figure grabbed his hand and moved it to touch the egg. It started glowing and cracking, impossibly bright light coming out of it. Mortel felt his mind leaving him, as the divine light consumed him.

Mortel woke up in the middle of the street, something felt strange. Like everything seemed more intense. The sounds were lauder, the sights and colors brighter, his clothes felt rougher. He stood up and looked around. He was standing in the middle of the street; it looked generic, so he didn’t know where really he was. He heard a weird squeak and looked down, his heart started beating faster, in front of him, near a sheath, sat a little red dragon. He slowly approached the creature, but it showed no signs of aggression or fear. The dragon let itself be petted, and let out a purr. Mortel then took up the sheath, on it was the note.

“Dragon is an ally, not a slave, knowing that, makes you different from the dark ones.”

Mortel folded the piece of paper, and put in one of his pockets. He then drew the sword out of its sheath; it was a beautiful silver blade, well balanced and clearly master crafted. He put the weapon back into its sheath and then replaced his old sword with it.

The little dragon stood up and growled, it clearly felt something; Mortel looked in the direction the dragon stood and saw a wave of energy collide with a building, destroying it. He started running in that direction, the dragon fallowed him.

He ran out in the street and saw Soran dueling Varten, both of them looked unnatural, Soran burned with black aura, which looked more like a flame, while Vartens aura looked very different from those few times Mortel saw him. It was not light silver, but far darker, and far more saturated and encompassing more. He drew out his new sword and ran towards the combatants.

A shadowy figure looked down to the scene appearing beneath it, smiled and jumped down It drew out a crystal pushed it to its lips and murmured something, the crystal grew dimly. Then figure put it into its pocket and walked away…

Thank you for reading the first part of my, hopefully many part, creation. I hope that you enjoyed it. I know it is not that well written, but I think that I did pretty well, for a 15 year old student from Eastern Europe. Also I know, the cover is not really good, but I don’t have any talent to draw something not terrible. Again, thank you for reading, and I hope that you will read the next part too. Goodbye.


Hellsword: The burning city

  • Author: Soran
  • Published: 2016-12-19 09:35:08
  • Words: 6786
Hellsword: The burning city Hellsword: The burning city