Thoron

Prologue

Allan gazed along the horizon. His eyes scanned the dark green shrubs that grew among other dead ones, searching for something to entertain his mind. As the sun rose, bringing light to the dark world, the beams shined through the dew drops, making the leaves of the plants glitter. A swift movement in the shrubs attracted his attention. A slender, shaggy, dog-like creature slid through the shrubs and into a hole in the ground. The deep blue sky began to lighten into bright shades of pink and orange as the sun rose higher, and an inviting breeze blew across the land, which brought a light scent of rain. The young man looked towards a tree as a few birds began chirping their greeting to the sun. Nature was always at peace with itself. Never fighting. Never at war. Why were humans so different? The Sylvan army had its horns locked in war with the Andaron Empire. Allan was to lead his battalion of reinforcements to a large battle that was several miles off. This skirmish was the battle that would hopefully determine the fate of the country Sylvia and, more importantly, his hometown of Rynths. This was a battle that he could not loose, no matter what happened. The silent air was filled with the noises of men stirring from their slumber. As soon as they awoke, they began their morning ritual of washing their face, eating breakfast, and packing their things. Immediately afterwards, the air was filled with the sounds and smells of war preparations; the smell of a hot campfire, of steel, of oil… the sound of metal grating against stone, the horses neighing and nickering to their masters as they were tacked up…

Allan went into his tent to make preparations of his own. He reached under his bed and pulled out his pack that held his armor and few precious items. He began to pull individual pieces of armor, keeping his thoughts clear to prevent himself from getting depressed. A soft thud caught his attention. Something that was wrapped with extreme care had fallen from his pack. As he bent down, he realized what had fallen and hurriedly grabbed and unwrapped it, seeing if it had sustained any damage. Luckily, the picture of his little family was perfectly unharmed. A large emptiness filled his heart as he gazed at the picture. Why did he feel that he would never see them again? He ran his thumb along the side of the picture, taking in every detail. He gazed at his wife, and then at his two year old daughter. He smiled. They looked so alike. They had the same light brown hair and face. The only thing that connected him to his daughter was their eyes. They had the same jade green eyes. He glanced out of his tent, noting that the sun was climbing ever higher. He rewrapped the picture in its cloth casing and placed it back in his satchel. He sighed deeply as the emptiness in his heart grew larger, and then proceeded to polish and put on his armor. Allan stepped outside just as the men began getting into formation. He ignored the men, dreading the march towards battle, and headed to his mare, Aida. He stroked her powerful neck as she nickered a gentle greeting. She nudged his side and snorted, almost as though she was telling him not to worry. He smiled and patted her nose gently. He felt more relaxed. Being around his horse made him more confident and got rid of the emptiness inside. Allan closed his eyes, leaning against Aida and let his mind go blank. Time continued onward, without his being aware.

What brought him back to reality was an apprehensive snort from his horse. Allan slowly opened his eyes and lifted his head. He watched as one of his captains approached.

"Sir!" The young man saluted, "It is time we begin our march."

Allan nodded. "Get everyone in formation."

"Sir, yes sir!" The young man saluted again and left to make sure everyone was in formation.

Allan gave a deep sigh. Aida nickered in reassurance and nudged his arm. The young general nodded and smiled. "We'll make it back home. We can't fail them." He rubbed behind his mare's ear then mounted. The horse's loud whinny alerted the dozing army as Allan pushed her to a trot in front of the army. He took only a split second to review the army's formation: cavalry followed by spearmen, footmen, and then flanked by archers. He nodded, satisfied, "Men, today we march into battle. Remember what we fight for. We cannot loose. Men, we fight for our wives, our children. We fight to preserve everything that Sylvia stands for. Not only do we fight to keep Andaron from defeating us, we fight for freedom! The freedom for our families, for Sylvia, and for Rynths!"

The men cheered. Allan nudged Aida forward and the army fell into step right behind him. He looked to the sky, the image of his family clear in his mind. He smiled. 'I will not fail you.'

* * *

The scent of blood hung heavily in the air and clung to the men's clothes the closer they got to the battle. The chilling sound of a man screaming his death cry sent a shiver up and down every soldier's spine. They all grew uneasy, including Allan. As they climbed the last hill the stench of blood became almost overpowering. Allan halted the troop with the raise of his hand, overlooking the battle. The difference between the Andaron and Silvan soldiers was almost indistinguishable. He drew his blade, hearing others do the same. Adrenaline began to pump through the troop as a whole as they readied for battle. Allan took a deep breath, 'I do this for Rynths. I do this for my family.' He raised the tip of his sword and let out a war cry, leading the charge. Aida bolted forward at full speed and each of the three hundred other horses followed, their riders each letting out a war cry of their own as the fury of the charge infected everyone, horse and rider alike. The stampede flattened everyone and everything that lied in its path. Several of the enemy, along with a few unfortunate allies, fell to the thundering hooves, never to get up again. Allan scanned the battlefield for his friend. His heart sank when he didn't see him. At the end of the charge, the general leapt off of his horse, letting her gallop away to safety. The rest of the cavalry prepared itself for a second charge.

Allan charged into the battle field, wielding his sword. He drove his weapon into the back of an unsuspecting enemy. Quickly pulling it out, he tried to ignore the blood squirting from the fatal wound and the visceral feeling in his stomach. He went onward to the next victim. Then the next. And the next. Soon there was an impressively large pile of bodies at his feet, yet they kept coming. 'They're like roaches! There's no end to them!' He clenched his teeth and tightened his grip on his sword as they surrounded him. One by one they attacked, but Allan slew each one as they came; his swordsmanship was superior in both speed and strength. Another group surrounded him. As Allan gave a sneer, a familiar voice gave a war cry. He turned in surprise to see his friend pull his sword out of an enemy. "Roalt!" Allan grinned.

Roalt grinned back, "I heard ye were lookin' for me."

Allan laughed, dodging a sword. "Yeah, I was." He looked at Roalt and smirked. Roalt smirked in reply and stood back to back with Allan. The two killed every enemy who dared to approach, working together. Once several hundred bodies lied dead at their feet, Allan scanned the field for the enemy leader. A figure slouching in a saddle caught his eye. The young man matched the description perfectly: ghostly pale skin, pitch black hair, scrawny, lanky body, cold yellow eyes. He had a detached expression on his face, like he didn't care. He wore pitch black armor, which matched the horse he rode. "Is that him?" Allan asked Roalt.

Roalt followed his gaze, "Aye. That's 'im. Malik," he spat in disgust.

"See that? He has two men guarding him," Allan pointed to the two brawny men standing on either side of the young man, "We could sneak up on him."

"That might work… I 'ave an idea," when Allan nodded, Roalt continued, "I can distract the bodyguards. Ye brawl with 'im and when he's distracted, I'll come up from behind and get 'im."

Allan nodded, "sounds simple enough. Let's do it."

"We need to dismount 'im first…" Roalt looked around and quickly got an archer's attention. He signaled for the man to shoot Malik's mount. The archer knocked an arrow and pulled it back. Taking careful aim, he let the arrow fly. The lethal arrow struck the stallion in the side. The poor creature reared, spooked, and let out a loud, pained neigh. It staggered and threw Malik off, who landed on his feet. He glared in the direction of the arrow.

Roalt quickly ran up and got the attention of the bodyguards, just as Allan ran up behind Malik, attempting to run him through. Malik acted with cat-like reflexes. He drew his blade and deflected Allan's blow, sending him in a different direction. "You cur!" Malik snarled.

"You will die by my blade," Allan growled in return.

"What makes you think you can defeat me?" Malik held his sword ready, "Sylvia will crumble before the Andaron Empire. You will not defeat me."

"We'll just see about that," Allan scowled. He charged at Malik only to be stopped. He fought against the enemy's block. 'How is he so strong!?' He gritted his teeth, 'He's only half my age and doesn't nearly have as much experience!' He pulled away from Malik and aimed a swing at the young man's side. Malik easily blocked the blow, sending Allan recoiling backwards, and aimed a blow of his own. Allan held up his shield and blocked. He aimed another swing. This time the enemy dodged, laughing. His voice was hollow, like he himself was an empty shell.

"You really are determined, aren't you?" Malik sneered, "You are nothing compared to the Andaron army. The fact they call you a general of anything is just pathetic. Are you really the best they've got? Even my lowest soldier is better than you!" He laughed again.

"You cold hearted bastard," Allan spat, throwing another swing only to be blocked once again. "I will not lose!" 'I can't lose…' The image of his family entered his mind.

"You're battle is almost over, you pathetic cur. Let me ask you one thing before you go," Malik smirked sadistically, "Do you have a family? I'd love to meet them. Especially your wife. I'm sure she and I will get along really well."

Allan grew furious. "You will not lay a hand on her!!" He charged again. At the last second, Malik dodged, giving a signal to one of his own elite archers. Allan spun around to face his enemy again. He was blinded by pure hatred. As he charged once again, something sharp and agonizingly painful pierced his armor and dug its way in between his shoulder blades. He was stopped in his tracks, vision going hazy. He fell to his knees.

"Let me tell you one thing: Sylvia will never stand a chance against the Andaron Empire, and I will personally make sure your family suffers because of your defiance," Malik snarled. He kicked Allan in the chest, forcing him onto his back. The poison-tipped arrow burrowed deeper, making Allan scream in anguish. Malik walked away, letting the poor man suffer, and allowing himself to return to his detached attitude.

Allan struggled to breath. He tried on a few occasions to sit up, but each attempt failed. He tried to stay conscious. He heard someone yelling, calling his name, but nothing was registering in his mind. He could see the pale hooves of Aida, yet no response was triggered. The last thing he remembered was the memory of his wife cooking dinner and his daughter playing. Before he slipped into the unknown he called, "Roalt?" and though he couldn't hear it, Roalt promptly answered, "take care of them… Please…" He did not survive long enough to hear his dearest friend's reply, but felt happy, knowing Roalt would do anything to fulfill Allan's wishes.
 
Chapter One

'Suffocation. The air is thick with blood, sweat, and pain. I can barely breathe. There's confusion all around me. I am hidden in a few bushes, safe, yet others are scrambling away from some unknown entity. I strain my eyes to see through the thick cloud of dust and smoke. I can see nothing. Still, I wait. For what, I know not; however, I know that it is vital to wait. I watch the last of the group struggle from the death-cloud and continue to hold my vigil. The air slowly clears, and I am able to see into the distance. What I see is horrific: dead bodies piled onto one another as though they were a child's play-toys in a messy room. Blood oozed and drained out of the carcasses, slowly forming a large pool. A familiar figure stands out among others, drawing a cry from my mouth. I run to the body, falling to my knees next to it. The person shudders as I gather him into my arms. He is struggling to breathe and is trying to give me a message. His groans are indistinguishable. As a shadow falls over me, a single word escapes his mouth, "r-run..." I slowly look up to witness the killer. His face is hidden in shadow, yet his cold, blue eyes hold a bloodlust that send shivers up my spine. Suddenly, I am alone with the man. The dead bodies disappear into darkness, and there seems as though there is no escape. "Autumn," the shadowy figure sneers in a taunting voice, holding up a sharp blade, "I'm coming for you." '

Autumn bolted upright in her bed, in a sweat. She buried her face in her hands, desperately trying to squelch her racing heart and gasping breaths. 'Who was that man?' She thought. The man's last words echoed in her head repeatedly. 'Do I know him? Who is he?' Autumn sifted her brain for an answer, but to no avail. She then laid down, calming herself and trying to clear her mind of the horrifying image in her dream. As soon as she managed to slow her pulse, a loud bang made her jump. 'Have the preparations already started? Uncle's going to want me out of the house…' She jumped up and snuck to the stairs. She peaked around the corner, her suspicions were confirmed, and she immediately went back down the dimly lit corridor to her room. Her usual morning routine consisted of trying to wake herself up, getting dressed, and stumbling out of the door, all during which she and her uncle yell back and forth at each other. Autumn smiled a bit, 'Uncle's too busy to yell today. I just hope this guest of his doesn't support the Andaron Empire. Ha! I gave the last guy hell for that.' She snickered a bit at the memory; she had relentlessly debated against the young politician until he was red with rage, and continually pointed out the flaws that the Andaron Empire had. 'He won't forget that night for a few years, that's for sure. I totally humiliated him!' Autumn mulled over these thoughts whilst she dressed. Her usually attire was that of a lower class male; she loathed wearing skirts and dresses. She wore regular trousers, a tunic, and a thin leather belt. All the soldiers and merchants knew of her as a trouble maker, though she only caused trouble for the Andaron soldiers. Autumn sat in front of her vanity and ran her fingers through her light brown hair. She made a disgusted face, and decidedly pulled it back and out of her face. 'That should work for now. I should go see if Uncle needs help before I leave for the market…' She grabbed a small pouch from her nightstand and headed back towards the stairs, attaching the pouch to her belt as she walked. She slowly went down to the main floor and watched her uncle work for a moment. "Uncle Roalt?" She asked, "need help?"

Roalt had grown old in age since he had fought with Allan. Compared to portraits and photographs, he was more weathered, his hair was a lighter shade of grey, and he had gained wrinkles around his eyes, the kind people get from laughing. Another change was an old injury that never healed, leaving him with a permanent limp; the tendon in his calf was torn when he was protecting Allan's body. The only thing that remained the same was his good-humored smile and the kindness in his eyes. He looked up from behind the counter and smiled, "Mornin' Autumn. I need no help, but if ye could get groceries from the market for tonight's dinner, that'd be great."

"Sure thing," Autumn smiled, I knew he'd ask that. He just wants me gone while the guest arrives. She headed towards the front door, "I'll be back soon. Bye, Roalt."

"Aye. Be careful!"

"I will," Autumn left. She stood on the front porch and stretched, taking in the warm sun. She smiled. 'It's a gorgeous day!' She began walking towards the Market district. The town she lived in, Rynths, was made up of six districts: Castle, Upper-Class, Lower-Class, Middle-Class, and Military districts surrounding the Market district. It made things both segregated, yet accessible. Personally, Autumn hated it. She lived in the Middle class district, due to the inn her uncle owned, but she was still surrounded by poverty and wealthy people who openly expressed their scorn towards those who were poor. She wished that everyone would get along and be peaceful, helpful, and kinds towards one another, but the world was still at war. Peace was behind a locked door to which no one had the key.

She walked along the cobblestone path into the market, keeping her mind somewhat clear. She took her usual place in the edge of an alley, politely returning the greetings the stand owners gave. She watched the crowds, observing the odd behaviors of the usual
shoppers. Everyone seemed to be so involved in their own little world, focusing only on what mattered to them, and paying no attention to those around them. The market was lively; there were several groups of people, most of which were housewives and restaurant owners. As the hours passed, the group only got larger, along with the noise. As fast as it grew, it quickly subsided, sparking Autumn's interest. She watched people try to disappear into the background. Scanning the crowds, she found the source of the sudden terror, and her blood began to boil. As the Andaron soldiers drew near, the crunching of their armor became unbearable. A scowl crossed Autumn's face, clearly showing her distaste. 'What are they doing here? Don't they have better things to do than terrorize the citizens?' She carefully scanned the soldiers, warily sizing them up. 'Only swords? These guys aren't well prepared at all,' Autumn smirked. She decided to wait, wanting to know what they were up to. The leader of the troop gave a signal and his two wingmen began to ransack the stands, taking what they pleased. The owners gave no protest until one who owned a produce stand was being robbed.

"I hope you know you need to pay for that!" The stand owner griped, "Those fruits are worth dozens!"

The leader of the group simply laughed, "You're new aren't you? Let me teach you something," he got right into the owner's face and lowered his voice, "We take what we want, when we want. We protect and rule your damn little town. It's our town, and our rules."

The stand owner seemed completely unfazed. "You are going to pay," he spoke with the same tone as the soldier, "You're stealing. That's illegal."

The soldier laughed again, and grabbed the man's throat, lifting him into the air, "Who's going to arrest us, huh? You pathetic cur. We are the law. We do what we want, and no one will stand in our way."

The color slowly drained from the man's face. He tried to stammer an incoherent apology and plea for forgiveness, which was when Autumn lost her temper. She made her way through the crowds, slowly closing in on them. She watched as the soldier threw the vendor against the back of his stand. The leader of the soldiers gave a signal and they turned to leave with their stolen goods. Autumn hid near their route, waiting. When they were a few feet in front of her, Autumn ran out of the group towards the soldiers. She collided into the leader, smirked, shouted, "Oops! Sorry," and kept running.

The soldier growled angrily, not realizing who Autumn was. As she disappeared in the crowd, the soldier checked his pockets. "That wench!! She took my money! Find her!!"

Autumn was already safely on her way to Roalt's inn. Stopping at the large tree in front of the inn, she sat to count her spoils. 'Ten silver coins, two gold ones, and five bronze ones. Haha, I've won the lottery! I could buy three horses with this!' She kept counting the coins over and over, relishing in the outcome of meddling with the Andaron soldiers. A flicker of movement in the window of Roalt's inn alarmed Autumn into hiding the coins. Roalt came limping towards her. "Autumn!" he shouted angrily.

"What?" Autumn shouted back. She went to him, kindly cutting his travel distance in half.

"Word 'as reached me of th' trouble ye 'ave been causin' the Andaron soldiers," Roalt spoke in the same tone he used when he would scold her as a child.

Autumn smiled a bit, trying hard not to appear too guilty, "What would make you say that, Uncle? You know I behave."

Roalt let out an exasperated sigh, "Autumn, if they catch ye, I can't do anythin' about it. All I ask is that ye stay out o' trouble. Besides, I 'ave a guest tonight that is wantin' to see ye."

Autumn raised a brow, "See me? Why am I so important?"

"Ye'll see," Roalt smirked, "Go inside an' 'elp prepare dinner."

Autumn looked at Roalt, a scrutinizing expression on her face. 'He's definitely up to something. But what is it?' "Alright…" She headed inside. The entrance, which had several tables and a bar, was unusually dimly lit. There was a candle on each table which cast odd, almost scary shadows on the walls that danced as the candles flickered. There was a dark figure wearing a cloak who was sitting at one of the tables in a corner, and although Autumn couldn't see his face, she knew he was watching her. She hid a shudder and continued on to the kitchen, which was just past the bar.