He fell one more time on the downward slope of the hill outside of the village, tumbling down haphazardly several feet before coming to a merciful stop. He ignored the scuffs and burning scrapes that he had incurred in the fall, as he dully got up to his feet and continued downward.
Finally, he reached the bottom, and started forward into the woods. His legs now felt as if they were made of the heaviest stone, though he forcibly picked up his pace and subsequently broke into an unsteady jog. A few times he wavered, and had to slow down to a stop, to find his balance with the help of a tree.
Eventually, he was deep into the forest, and far away from the village. Ultimately, when his willpower could no longer force his legs to carry him any farther, he collapsed onto the ground. Pulling himself towards the base of a towering oak tree, he curled up into a fetal position and wept bitterly.
At long last, the fatigue of an emotionally drained soul and a physically depleted body overcame his consciousness, and brought him into the merciful arms of a deep sleep.
THE UNIFIER
Everything was so abundantly clear, no depths hidden from the eyes watching the winged form descending from the skies.
The messenger’s heart was palpitating rapidly when he landed his Harrak deep within the bailey of the second level of The Unifier’s soaring citadel in Avalos. His thoughts were so very exposed, revealed in an instant of transcendent perception by the One watching him.
The Avanoran sky rider had been expecting to be greeted by one of the Unifier’s Sorcerers, the ones who attended Him most closely. They often sat within the gable-ended Great Hall that loomed far to his left, diligently conducting the Unifier’s affairs.
The Sorcerers of Avalos were quite unnerving in their own regard, though nothing like the Master that they served. Unlike the Unifier, the guardsman could still endure their presence while keeping his wits and composure. He had envisioned that once they had met his arrival, that they would conduct him deeper into the great fortress, or perhaps lead him on up to one of the higher levels of the citadel that the Unifier normally occupied.
The walk would have given him the precious gift of a little time, as he had hoped for a few undisturbed moments to steel his anxieties. The hopes had been brutally dashed when he saw that the Unifier Himself was awaiting him in person within the bailey. To the guardsman’s great dismay, he also saw that they were alone, anyone else evidently having been dismissed, as the grounds never went unoccupied by the forms of servants, artisans, or guards.
The eerie silence reigning in the bailey was intimidating enough, unnatural as the winds whistled among the series of buildings all around. A dizzying, icy chill of fear seized upon him with the realization of the Unifier’s imminent presence, imbuing his movements with awkwardness. Hurriedly, he got down out of the saddle, his knees nearly buckling as his feet set down on the ground.
The messenger bowed his head immediately, instantly dropping to one knee before the tall, immaculate presence standing before him. He fumbled about as he nervously unlaced and removed his conical iron helm, revealing the short-cropped hair covering his head from his ears forward.
The back half was shaved smooth, as was his face. It was a manner of style that hailed from an earlier age, now embraced by the warriors of the Unifier’s Avanoran garrison within the great citadel. Stoic, determined, and well-trained, the warriors that exhibited the strange, half-shaven style were normally to be respected and feared, at least by the populace of Avanor. The Unifier had no respect for the warrior, and was well aware of the man’s great fear.
As one of the elite garrison force, the man had been privy to many things that few others knew about the powerful being looming before him. Only the Sorcerers knew the Unifier more intimately.
He had no difficulty keeping confidence concerning certain aspects regarding the true nature of the Unifier, as he had openly witnessed what could happen if he ever failed to do so. Bold, even arrogant, in his dealings others in the realm, he was frightened to the point of paralysis just from being in the immediate company of the Unifier.
The moments spent directly before the Unifier were those that he dreaded the most. Being alone with the Unifier, in the middle of an empty bailey, was staggering to his inner composure. It was all that he could do to function within the oppressive climate.
“What is the report?” the Unifier calmly demanded, ignoring the tremendous fear swarming within the guard, and well aware of everything that the man was thinking and feeling.
The messenger kept his eyes averted from the powerful, penetrating gaze of the Unifier. “The Darroks destroyed a large village, and caused much damage to one of the tribes.”
“A village? One village? Did I not make myself clear that five villages were to be destroyed, in the first use of the Darroks?” The Unifier replied in an even tone, intertwined with tendrils of anger. “How was this not clear?”
The guard’s heartbeat was now racing precipitously, as he mustered up every ounce of his will to answer. “Your will was clear, my Lord… They could not continue their attack… They were challenged by tribal defenders, upon sky steeds. They were able to destroy the village, before losses to the Trogens, and threats to the Darroks, forced them to retreat. The losses to the tribesmen were great. Two of every three warriors that came up on sky steeds were slain.”
“And it was said that we would command their skies. That there was no way that the tribes would be able to contend with the Darroks. What can I believe now?” the Unifier stated darkly.
His eyes took on a blazing, reddish hue, with pulsing, swirling movements just beneath the surface of the baleful orbs. Anger rose up within Him at the news that the great Darroks had somehow been forced to suspend their assault, after leveling just one paltry village.
“And of the Darroks?” He inquired in a near hiss.
“They are all healthy,” the messenger replied quickly. “All of the losses were to the Trogens upon the carriages. Be assured that there was no harm to any of the Darroks.”
The Unifier narrowed His eyes as He focused upon the soldier. He could easily sense the increasing trepidation in the human at having to deliver the less than spectacular tidings.
“There is a threat… yes? Speak now, and openly,” the Unifier commanded in a low, threatening voice.
The sky warrior nodded, sweat beading all over his forehead. “Yes, my Lord… A couple of tribesmen were able to cut a harness free on one Darrok. They flew on its underside, and cut the bindings. The carriage was near to sliding off of its back. The Trogens had to abandon the area, or lose the carriage and themselves.”
“How could that be? How could they even reach My Darroks to do such a thing?” the Unifier questioned with clear disgust. The feeble tribesmen had exposed a weakness in Avanor’s mighty new weapon, on just the very first use of it. “Why were those savages able to even come near to My Darroks? How did they pass through the Trogen sky warriors?”
A sickening dread gripped the messenger, as he knew that he could not lie, nor could he sweeten his words. There was no use even trying, and a part of him felt that he should simply run for the steps to the circuit wall on the terrace, mount them, and fling himself quickly from the wall.
“They… were not… sent in the carriages. The Trogens were sent without steeds. It was deemed that all room should be used for the stone missiles. The Darroks were loaded with as much stone as they could bear, with enough of a crew to handle it,” the messenger responded, the cold sweat surging all over his body. A breeze engulfed him, as it channeled through the rectangular buildings nearby, causing him to shiver.