Re: Fan Fic Contest - Deadline March 8th, word limit 15000
And the moral of the story is to never count me out, even if judging day has come. I present to you, an untitled work. After writing it, I realized that while it has allies fighting as a setting, the fighting is never actually shown. Hopefully that doesn't detract too much. Be prepared for switching PoV's and times.
Note: Out of necessity, there is some brief gruesomeness.
Spoiler Alert!
Valhalla, Second Year of the War.
_____Utgar marches north against Jandar. Vydar, Utgar’s ally, battles for control of his lands against the forces of Ullar, but if help doesn’t arrive soon, he will be overrun, the province of Anund claimed by Ullar. Einar presses north in a desperate attempt to aid Vydar, but a large swath of Jandar’s territory, rife with castles and fortified cities, bars his way…
_____Vimar took a breath, held his wings close to his body, and kicked the door in. He didn’t know why he bothered. The house only had two walls left standing.
_____His foot went right through the door, splintering the blackened wood with barely any resistance. The rest of the door quickly followed, the planks dropping from the crumbling doorframe like so much overripe fruit. Vimar coughed on the ash and dust which assaulted him through his golden mask, and, waving his hand in front of his face in a hopeless effort to clear the air, entered the house.
_____Flames, small but still burning, licked at the walls in places. What was left of the ceiling was now covering the floor in a carpet of blackened rubble. Vimar kicked a few planks aside and moved into the house. The planks disintegrated to ash the moment his boot touched them.
_____Einar would be pleased. The spell had worked far better than anticipated. It was supposed to strike the city of Benerav with a single bolt of magic; a bolt so powerful that it would leave a crater in the central plaza, and hopefully cause enough damage with the shockwave to allow Einar’s troops to break down the walls and take the city.
_____The spell had done far more. Vimar had watched, from amongst Einar’s legions positioned a safe distance away, as a black cloud slowly formed over Benerav, red lightning flickering within. All too soon, the lightning had built, the cloud had sunk low, and then a single, brilliant, crackling tongue of lightning had shot straight down, smiting the center of the city which Einar had spent so long trying to capture.
_____Vimar wasn’t the only one to be surprised when a vast ball of flame exploded from where the lightning had struck. It didn’t just consume the plaza either, or the first few houses. It consumed the entire city in a seething inferno. That was of course after the shockwave leveled fifty houses, and obliterated the rest, disintegrating them into chunks of stone and dirt. The walls… well, there weren’t any walls left mentioning. Pieces of houses and the road itself had torn straight through them, leaving great gaping holes.
_____It was two hours before Benerav had cooled enough for Einar’s legions to pour in, salvaging what was left. It was precious little.
_____Some of Jandar’s garrison had managed to escape the magic by being located in the underground bunker at the time. They were few in number, and the Imperium quickly eradicated them, Vimar killing his fair share. They had fled quickly, and the Imperium had dispersed to rat them out, Vimar among them.
_____Vimar choked on the dust and ash which swirled around him as he peered into the house. It was easy to see no one was hiding in it; all the interior walls had been knocked down. What looked like a body was lying in the far corner. At least half of it was. Vimar couldn’t tell where the other half had gone. If it even still existed.
_____Sickened, Vimar turned away, and left the house the way he had come. The next house on the street had what appeared to be half of a well lodged in front of the door, so Vimar climbed over the few remaining bricks of what used to be the wall.
_____This house was even worse than the last one. Part of the ceiling was still up, but the blackened beams sagged dangerously.
_____A whole family had been here. Perhaps about to eat dinner, from the way they were arranged in a circle. Vimar couldn’t tell. Any trace of a table had been blasted away, along with much of the family. A father. A mother, judging by the burned dress. Two smaller figures.
_____Vimar’s stomach involuntarily convulsed, and he had to turn away, keeping his hand to his mouth as he staggered out of the house.
_____Ash was still falling in the street, some of it burning, the rest simply hot enough to burn anything it touched. A few bodies were strewn here and there, swept to the side of the streets by the force of the blast, moved out of the way like so many pieces of useless crumpled up paper. It wasn’t as though they were all civilians. The majority wore the colors of Jandar. Somehow, that didn’t make Vimar feel any better.
_____‘I hope Einar’s happy,’ he thought to himself as he moved to the next house. ‘I hope he’s proud of what he’s found his wellspring can do.’
_____A crunch met him as he put his foot down. He looked down. A skull. A human skull, the flesh completely burned away. He couldn’t tell if it was male or female, child or old man.
_____Vimar removed his boot, but he didn’t look away. He didn’t have the right to look away. He had known what Einar would unleash. He had backed the idea, in fact. Yes, he didn’t know just how powerful the magic would be, but he had still known there would be civilian casualties. Somehow, they hadn’t seemed as real when he was plotting their murder back in Einar’s capital.
_____“Avir.” Help. Vimar’s head snapped up. The voice was feeble, barely audible over the rushing of the flames still raging in the central plaza.
_____“Avir.” The voice ended in a horrible cough. It was a woman. Vimar spun on the spot. She was close. Somewhere close. Somewhere… there! Three houses down, buried under the collapsed eave of a house.
_____Vimar rushed to her. At least what was left of her. He staggered back as he saw that one of her legs was gone, completely torn off by the blast. Blood painted the wall behind the woman, and still leaked from her seared wound. Her face was pallid, her white hair blackened with ash and flame. Blood trickled down her face from cuts along her head as she looked up at Vimar.
_____Her face cracked into a smile, and her eyes widened with hope. “Ilm’f fel,” she croaked, blood leaking from her mouth. Vimar could see she was in shock, not fully aware of where she was or what had happened.
_____“I’m here,” he said, kneeling down and holding her steady, for she had begun to weave on the spot. “You’re safe now.”
_____The woman shook her head. Her white hair swayed from side to side, stiff with blood. Vimar realized she wasn’t as old as he had at first thought. In fact, as he looked at her he realized she was quite young, his age, perhaps. He suspected that without the loss of blood and covering of ash, she had probably been quite beautiful.
_____“My son,” she said, something gurgling in her throat. “My son.”
_____“Where is your son?” Vimar asked. She was half mad; her eyes were having trouble staying focused on him.
_____“Across the street,” the woman said vaguely, waving her hand to the burning ruin of cobblestones next to her. “Across the… yes. Bring him. Please?”
_____“I don’t know where he is.”
_____“No matter. No matter. Here, take this to him. I made it for him. He’s been expecting it… give it to him. Give him the wood. No, not the wood… the… the….” She fumbled with the collar of her dress, trying to get at something on a chain about her neck. Her fingers were cut and bleeding, and she actually tore the neck of the fabric before she pulled out what she was looking for. Dangling at the end of a thin chain was a simple wood carving. Vimar guessed it was supposed to be a kyrie in full flight.
_____The carving’s wings had been snapped, and a long crack ran down the middle of the figure. Blood covered one side, smearing the rough features with dark red.
_____“Here. Here. Take it to my son. He’s been waiting. He’ll be so excited!” For a moment the woman’s happiness shone through and Vimar saw a young girl in the face, even through the ash and blood. He couldn’t bear the sight.
_____“Take it! Take it!” The woman shoved the carving into his hands.
_____“I can’t,” Vimar said, feeling his stomach clench again. “I can’t.”
_____“He’s just on the other side of the street,” the woman said, perhaps not hearing him. “Just there. Take it to my son. Take it to him. Take it to—” She suddenly let out a cry of pain and fell to the street, her elbow, which she had been propping herself up on, giving way. She hit her head before Vimar could do anything.
_____He quickly reached out and held her head as her eyes flew from side to side. Her body shuddered with quick breaths. Her eyes found his, but something had snapped in them. They seemed older.
_____“Please,” she whispered, holding his gaze, “please… find my son. Give him the carving. He’s been… waiting… waiting so long…” She pressed the carving into his hand, and then gripped both the carving and his hand very tightly. He winced at the pain, but then her grip relaxed. Her hand fell. Her body sagged, and became still.
_____Vimar sat there for a moment, his mind locked in a whirl of conflicting reactions. Part of him wanted to vomit. Part of him wanted to run. Part of him wanted to just close his eyes and pretend none of it had happened. But he could do none of those things. He wouldn’t.
_____He could feel the rough wood of the carving against the skin of his palm, and closed his fist about it. They had tried to take Benerav for eight months. They had succeeded. And the carving Vimar held had been the price.
Valhalla, sixty-fourth year of the War.
_____Einar and Vydar have long since joined Jandar against Utgar, but the devilish Valkyrie proves impossible to beat. Factions have broken away from the generals and joined each other, among them the elves, soulborgs, and marro. They now claim their own wellsprings, and all save the marro remain resolutely neutral.
_____“Keep those doors shut! Bring the wounded over here! Vor, get to work on those controls! We need this wellspring operational in five minutes!”
_____There was a thud on the door. Jaseff and Vilda, holding it shut, fell back.
_____“Keep it closed! Keep it closed!” Kelin ran to them, bracing the door with his own shoulder. The soulborgs couldn’t get through. They were so close.
_____“This isn’t worth it, Kelin!” Vilda cried, scrambling to her feet. “The soulborgs will let us go if we surrender now; there are easier ways to strike against Jandar!”
_____“No!” Kelin shouted. He had to shout, for the large room they were in echoed as though a waterfall were rushing into it. The thunder came from the center of the room, where a thick hub of metal covered what had once been a wellspring.
_____“It’s got to be this way! If we leave now, Einar will track us down in an instant and slay us as traitors. He would never understand!”
_____“He understands plenty,” Jaseff said, springing to his feet as well. “He would understand, Kelin. We should go to him.”
_____“Brace the door!” Kelin yelled, shouting in Jaseff’s face as the door rumbled again. “Einar won’t understand. He can’t.”
_____“They’re right, Kelin,” Vor shouted from the wall, where he was fiddling with dials and switches. “Einar has felt the pain of loss. He understands the thirst for revenge.”
_____“Not mine!” Kelin bellowed. “Not mine! Einar never had a six-year-old brother he had to watch over night and day. Einar never had that brother dragged into the street by Jandar’s kyrie. Einar never saw him get his head bashed in with one hammer blow.”
_____Kelin didn’t grow weak as he said these words. He didn’t sag against the door as the memories came flooding back. He got stronger. The burning rage returned, filling him with hate towards Jandar and all those who served under him. Einar would never understand. How could he?
_____It had started decades ago, back when Einar and Jandar still fought each other. Some attack had been taken personally, and the path of revenge had never cooled, shifting back and forth as each subsequent attack was avenged with as much bloodshed as possible. Sometimes individuals had been held responsible. Sometimes whole cities had been burned just to get at one man. And the slaughter hadn’t stopped when Einar joined Jandar. If anything, it had intensified.
_____A band of Jandar’s kyrie, disobeying their general, had found Kelin’s family guilty of the latest in the chain of atrocities, and had slain his brother. Kelin had spent his life protecting helpless Beran. He had sworn nothing bad would ever happen to him. He had exacted his revenge against the kyrie, but Jandar needed to pay.
_____Kelin had grown up with no mother, and with only his father, weakened from an old wound and unable to stand, for a parent. It was he who had looked after them all. It was he who had taken care of little Beran, the sickly child too weak to walk until he was four. It was he who had watched Beran be slaughtered.
_____But it was more than that. He had seen countless lives claimed by Jandar’s thirst for revenge. And by Einar’s for that matter. He had grown up protecting someone who couldn’t protect themselves, so perhaps it was natural he wanted to stop the conflict. Perhaps it was natural that he couldn’t let another innocent die. He had sworn he would protect all those who couldn’t protect themselves, even as he had protected Beran. He had failed in both counts, but he couldn’t let the failure be the final say. He might be just another link in the chain of revenge, but he would be the last. This would end it all.
_____“Vor! How long?”
_____“Two minutes. But Kelin, they’re right. Einar would—”
_____“EINAR WOULD NOT UNDERSTAND!” Kelin bellowed at Vor, spit actually flying across the room. “Do you understand? This is going to happen! We will use this wellspring to obliterate Jandar’s hometown, and then it will be over.” And it would be over. Jandar would never recover from such a blow.
_____Long ago, at the onset of the war, Einar had discovered a spell, a spell which turned his wellspring into a weapon of unthinkable destruction. Not knowing the extent of its power, he had used it against a city of Jandar’s – Benerav, Kelin thought it had been called. The city had been annihilated. The few who had survived soon died from their wounds. The entire city was decimated, wiped off the face of the earth. Einar, in horror, had sworn never to use such a weapon again, but it was that kind of destruction that Kelin needed. He needed the finality that came with it. The attack to end all attacks. He would fulfil his promise to his brother, and everyone else who had died wrongly. And the key was right before him: the wellspring of the soulborgs.
_____The soulborgs had fitted some sort of metal platform over the wellspring, and somehow devised a way of controlling it through a vast panel of dials and switches. Kelin knew exactly what needed to happen to unleash the wellspring upon Jandar’s hometown, and Vor knew the controls.
_____“I can’t do this Kelin.” It was Vor who spoke.
_____“What?”
_____“I won’t do this. It isn’t right. You’re just going to create—” Kelin strode across the room and shoved Vor aside. “I’ll do it myself then,” he said. “Go help brace the door.”
_____Vor looked at him for a moment, but then turned, and ran to help Jaseff and Vilda hold the door against the soulborgs.
_____Kelin worked feverishly, pulling levers, turning dials, and flipping switches. Behind him, the wellspring’s roar began to grow louder, and a rushing filled the room, as if they stood in the midst of a stampeding herd of great beasts. The walls began to shake.
_____Kelin knew there was only one way out of this. Once they used the wellspring, the soulborgs would never let them leave alive. The only way out was through the wellspring itself. But before they escaped, Kelin had to do what he came here for. He had to hold true to the oath he had sworn. He couldn’t let the suffering continue.
_____“Spirits of my ancestors,” Kelin said, speaking quietly so only he could hear, “protect me now. Let me carry out this final deed.” He briefly pulled from beneath his armor a talisman, a token passed down from generation to generation. Kelin liked to think keeping it close meant the spirits of his ancestors watched over him. He clutched it to his chest briefly, and then stuffed it back down his armor, where it hung on its chain against his chest.
_____The talisman was a curious object. It was a simple wood carving – a bit poorly done to be honest – of a kyrie in full flight. The wings were snapped off, and a crack ran through the middle. Half of it was stained dark. But Kelin wouldn’t have parted with it. It had been in his family for four generations, originating with his great grandfather, Vimar.
Valhalla, Second Year of the War.
_____Einar, realizing what he has done, has sworn never to use his wellspring for such devastation again. The secret of the spell he used is kept under lock and key, so that no other may use it. Vimar has long searched his soul for a reason for the senseless destruction, but some quests are doomed to never be completed…
_____“I’m relieving you of duty, Vimar.”
_____Vimar stood rigid, but nodded his acknowledgement.
_____“You’ve served me well, and your actions have been noted. I’m promoting you to General of the Second Order, and retiring you with honors.”
_____“Thank you, sir.”
_____“Vimar.”
_____Vimar looked down. Einar was looking at him, not as a commander, but as a friend. “I need you to know I’m not trying to get rid of you.”
_____“Yes, sir.”
_____“I’m not,” Einar repeated. “Ever since Benerav you’ve been distracted. You can’t keep your mind focused on your duty. Leaving you in command would be a danger, not only to me and my men, but to yourself. I need you to understand that.”
_____“Perfectly, sir.”
_____Einar sighed. “Go home, Vimar. Enjoy Valhalla as it was intended to be seen: green rolling hills, grassy plains, bubbling creeks. Go home to your family. You’ve given this war more of your life than it deserved, live out the rest of it with them.”
_____“Thank you, sir.” Vimar bowed and turned to leave.
_____“And Vimar,” Einar said. Vimar paused. “I hope… I hope you find what you are looking for. I too would like to hear it.”
_____There was a moment of silence. Then Vimar turned his head and glanced at Einar. “I’ve searched for many months,” he said. “I don’t know if there is a reason at all for what happened at Benerav. But I will find it if it exists. I must. And you will be the first I tell once I find the answer.”
_____Einar nodded. “Good luck, my friend. And goodbye.”
Valhalla, Sixty-Fourth Year of the War.
_____A group of Einar’s warriors, led by the kyrie Kelin, have deviated from their orders to seek revenge against Jandar. They have assaulted the soulborg wellspring in a surprise attack, and now intend to use it to wreck the same destruction Einar once wrought on Benerav. They are very close…
_____“What’s going on, Vor!?!” The metal hub covering the wellspring glowed ominously, and another brilliant flash of light filled the room.
_____“It’s normal!” Vor shouted back over the rushing of the wellspring. “The soulborgs tried to contain the raw magic in metal. It works most of the time, but it can be overpowered when the wellspring is in use. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt us!”
_____Kelin hoped Vor knew what he was talking about. The metal hub of the wellspring was pulsing with white light, and every few seconds, there would be a brilliant flash, and something – a shard, a ball, some fragment of pure light – would blast away from the metal and soar across the room, passing out through the wall.
_____“What if one of those things hits us?” Kelin yelled back, as the wellspring gave off another flash.
_____“It’ll disorient you for a second, but you’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.”
_____The wellspring had been kept dormant by the soulborgs, but it was nearing the power level Kelin needed. Very soon, he would be able to destroy any city in Valhalla, though there was only one which would burn tonight.
_____Assuming the wellspring held. The flashes were becoming more frequent. The orbs of light were becoming larger, and now Kelin could see dark patches swirling in them as they flew towards the walls.
_____Soon the patches of light were bigger than Kelin’s head. Then they were bigger than his torso. Eventually a flash of light sped across the room bigger than all of Kelin put together.
_____He could see into them clearly now. They were flashes, moments of different times and places. He could see people moving, animals running, the sun beating down on a Valhalla he didn’t recognize. Who knew if he was looking at the past or future? Who knew if he was looking at Valhalla at all?
_____One minute. One more minute until he could exact his revenge. The door was holding. The wellspring was stable. It was going to work.
_____The wellspring flashed with light, and the largest patch yet detached itself and flew across the room – straight for Kelin.
_____He had no time to duck or dodge to the side. The light flew straight into him, and then through him, soaring through the wall behind him like all the others. Kelin, however, never saw where it had gone.
_____The moment the light had touched him, all sound had faded. His surroundings had faded and blurred, and then rearranged themselves in a ghostly bluish-gray version of a setting Kelin had never seen.
_____He was standing in the middle of a city. At least, what had once been a city. Scattered flames licked at the remnants of houses. The cobblestone streets were torn up, chunks of rock lay strewn about them. Ashes, some burning, some simply hot enough to burn through anything they touched, descended from the sky.
_____A man, a kyrie Imperium like Kelin, stepped out of one of the ruined houses. He looked right through Kelin, not seeing him, but Kelin recognized him instantly from the pictures he had grown up with. He was Vimar, Kelin’s great grandfather. The wellspring was showing him the past.
_____“Avir.” Help.
_____Both Kelin and Vimar turned at the cry, searching for the source. After another cry for help, Kelin saw the woman, lying half buried under the fallen eave of a house. Vimar spotted her a second later, and ran to her, Kelin close behind.
_____The woman tried to shove something into Vimar’s hand. Kelin leaned closer, trying to see what it was. A carving, roughly hewn. A kyrie in full flight. Its wings were snapped off, and a crack ran down its middle. Blood stained one side of it.
_____Kelin reeled back. This was where his talisman had come from? He yanked it from beneath his armor, staring at it, and then back at the version the woman held. His was more battered and worn, but it was clearly the same carving. Why would Vimar have kept it? Why would he have passed it down through the generations?
_____Kelin backed away. He wanted the vision to stop. He didn’t want to be here any longer, observing the destruction of what he now knew must be Berenav. He turned and ran down the street.
_____The central plaza was still burning, but Kelin felt no heat from the flames. They passed around and through him harmlessly, for he was a mere memory in their time. He ran into them, hoping to escape, hoping that they would somehow end the vision. They did not.
_____Kelin saw something dark lying across his path, and stumbled in an attempt to avoid it, forgetting he would just pass through it. He tripped and fell, landing on the broken cobblestones (visions seem to have undefined laws about what is and isn’t solid).
_____The dark object he had seen now lay beside him, its eyes staring into his. It was a kyrie. Burnt to a cinder, its lifeless eyes robbed of their eyelids and quickly drying in the intense heat. Kelin couldn’t look away. He tried to get up, but his legs didn’t seem to work. He shoved himself away from the staring gaze, using his arms as best he could. He bumped into something and looked behind him. Another body.
_____This one was a woman, quite a bit less burned than the body he had just seen. Bits of skin still covered her, and even her dress was intact in places. To her breast she clutched a small form, flames running up and down it, searing it. A child.
_____Kelin caught a faint trace of motion in the child. It was still alive. On fire, being burned alive, trapped by its mother’s dead body.
_____“NO!” Kelin shrieked. He tried to pull the child from its mother’s grasp, but his hands passed straight through it. The stirring grew fainter, and then ceased altogether as the flame claimed its latest victim.
_____Kelin surged to his feet, feral panic seizing his heart. This, this was the kind of suffering he had sworn to stop. He was trapped among it. He had to either get out, or stop it. And he was powerless to stop it.
_____He staggered out of the flames, ran past Vimar, still bent over the woman, and down the street. More ruined houses. Men incinerated in the streets. Dead women shielding their children. The body of a young girl, burning silently. Kelin’s mind was reeling. Such destruction. Such slaughter. He staggered sideways, and passed through the wall of a house. The burnt corpse of a husband sheltering his wife. He backed away, passing into another house. Another grisly scene. And another. And another.
_____“STOP!” Kelin bellowed, forcing his eyes shut. He couldn’t see it. He couldn’t.
_____But then the sounds shifted. The screams and raging of flames died away, replaced by silence. Silence… and the gurgling of a brook.
Valhalla, Third Year of the War.
_____Vimar has returned to his family in Lindesfarme, but he has come home a changed man. He is haunted, haunted by the questions he cannot answer, the deaths and destruction he cannot justify. Unseen, Kelin watches his ancestor…
_____Vimar sat still, face in hands. The brook gurgled merrily beside him, but none of its happiness spread to him. How could it, after what he had seen? The capacity to feel happy had left him after Berenav. Many things had.
_____“Vimar?” His wife sat beside him. “Did you sleep last night?”
_____Vimar shook his head without removing it from his hands. “Can’t,” he croaked.
_____“The war?” his wife asked quietly.
_____Again, Vimar shook his head.
_____“Berenav?”
_____A single nod.
_____“It was a year ago, Vimar. Terrible things happen in a war. Not all of them can be justified.”
_____Vimar raised his head to look at his wife. His eyes were shadowed with lack of sleep. “But all things should be justified,” he said. “Odin doesn’t let anything happen without good reason. If I knew why Berenav happened, I could move on. But the knowledge escapes me.”
_____He was silent for a moment, and then turned fully to his wife, his eyes searching hers. “How?” he asked her. “How could Odin let such a thing happen?”
_____“We cannot know the will of Odin,” his wife said gently, laying her hand upon his. “It must be enough to know that he has a reason for all things. Even Berenav. It is not our place to know his plan.”
_____“A reason?” Vimar echoed. His voice took on a hallow tone. “I saw children burned alive. I saw women buried within their own houses, slowly roasted from the outside. I saw men impaled by stakes thrown out by the blast. What possible reason could there be for that? What good can possibly come out of so much evil?”
Valhalla, Sixty-Fourth Year of the War.
_____The wellspring is ready. The target is locked. Any moment now, Einar’s terrible weapon will once again be unleashed against Jandar…
_____“NOOOO!”
_____“Kelin! What are you doing? What’s wrong?”
_____Hands grasped Kelin, kept him from falling, shook him, but he did not respond. The visions of Berenav were still burned into his mind.
_____Vilda slapped him. That seemed to do the trick. Kelin blinked as she came into focus. The rushing of the wellspring returned. The soulborgs slammed against the door.
_____The door!
_____“Hold the door!” Kelin shouted, surging to his feet. Vilda and Jaseff sprinted to hold it, but Vor remained where he was, a steadying hand on Kelin’s shoulder.
_____“You all right?”
_____“Fine,” Kelin replied. “I just saw – It doesn’t matter. Is the wellspring ready?”
_____“Yes. Locked on target.”
_____“Then let’s finish this. I swore an oath to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves, and I mean to keep it.” Kelin staggered forwards, searching for the fatal button which would obliterate a city.
_____“You sure about this, Kelin?” Vor asked. “You sure you want to obliterate an entire city to get back at Jandar?”
_____“Yes,” snapped Kelin. After what he had just seen, nothing could change his mind. “What he’s done, the defenseless he’s slaughtered – he deserves it. They all do.”
_____Vor grabbed his shoulder convulsively. “Think, Kelin,” he hissed. “Think. All of them?”
_____Kelin tried unsuccessfully to pry Vor’s hand off of him. “Every last one,” he said. He had found the button. It was an arm’s length away. He reached for it.
_____“What about the children?”
_____Kelin’s hand shuddered to a halt. “What about them?”
_____“Do they deserve the destruction you’re about to rain down on them?”
_____“I—”
_____“What about the women?” Vor continued, sensing Kelin’s doubt. “Have they done wrong too then? Or the old men? What of the old crone who tells stories? What of the baker who makes bread? What of the blacksmith who works the metal?”
_____Kelin turned to him, his mind iron. “The children will be raised on slaughter and suffering. The women welcome the men home after the murder they commit. The old men are waiting to die, knowing their judgement is nigh for their sins. The old crone tells stories ringed with blood. The baker feeds the warriors, enabling them to do their work. The blacksmith provides the very weapons which rend flesh from bone. They are all equally guilty. They are all my sworn enemies. They all must die. Only then will my promise be fulfilled.”
_____Vor let go, looking at Kelin with sadness and disappointment. “Then you are truly lost,” he said.
_____Kelin reached for the button. “You are wrong, old man. I have never seen my path before me more clearly.”
_____Vor sighed. “Long is the path of vengeance,” he said, speaking almost to himself. “Hearts broken. Bones shattered. Wings snapped.”
_____Kelin touched the button, but froze. Wings snapped. He felt against his chest the lump of wood, the talisman.
_____The woman had made that figure. She had made it for her son. Her son, across the street. Perhaps he was visiting someone. Perhaps he had friends. Perhaps he had played with that girl, burning in the street. Did the girl have a mother? Was her mother perhaps the one in the fire, still clutching her child, shielding him from the flames? What about her husband? Was he one of the soldiers burned alive in the streets? Or was he perhaps the corpse next to her, the dried eyes staring blankly, unwavering, into Kelin?
_____Unbidden, came a rush of visions: all the people Kelin had killed. The kyrie he slew to avenge his brother. The warriors he slaughtered in the name of ending the suffering. Had they had families? Children? Relatives?
_____‘Odin forgive me. What have I done? What manner of harm have I caused to the weak, the innocent, or the helpless?’
_____Kelin reeled back from the button, gasping, his hand clenched instead around the talisman beneath his armor.
_____“Kelin?” Vor’s voice was filled with concern.
_____“Shut it off,” Kelin said, staring at the button he had nearly pressed. “Shut it off!” he yelled when Vor didn’t move.
_____Vor leapt to the panel, undoing the work Kelin had done. Slowly, the wellspring began to subside, the rushing of its waters dimming. Again the soulborgs pounded on the door.
_____“Let them through,” Kelin called. “Let them through – they won’t harm us. They wish to remain neutral in this war.”
_____Uncertainly, Vilda and Jaseff pulled the door open.
_____After a moment, a soulborg, seven feet tall and shining in metal armor, entered the room. Its gaze focused on Kelin.
_____“Kelin, soldier of Einar,” it said in a booming voice which thundered in the room like a judgement call, “why have you done this? What reason do you have for using our wellspring?”
‘Reason?’ thought Kelin. ‘What reason was there for the slaughter at Berenav? What reason was there for the murders I’ve committed? What reason was there for the devastation I nearly caused?’
_____“None,” he replied.
_____The soulborg took a step towards him. “We know the actions you have taken, Kelin, soldier of Einar. You have fought your way through our defenses and barricaded yourself with our wellspring. What possible reason could there be for that?”
_____Vimar’s exact words. Kelin remembered: What possible reason could there be for that? What good can possibly come out of so much evil?”
_____Had there been a reason for the destruction? Vimar hadn’t been able to find one. The senseless slaughter had been just that: senseless. Without logic or cause. Kelin too believed in Odin as his ancestors had, but he didn’t have the answer. He echoed Vimar’s thoughts: how could Odin allow such things to happen? What possible reason could there be?
_____The soulborg seemed to take his silence as answer enough. Two more soulborgs came through the door, and together, they marched Kelin and his followers back the way they had come, out through the soulborg stronghold. They wouldn’t harm them, lest Einar use it as an excuse to claim their wellspring. But they wouldn’t allow them to stay anywhere near their lands, either.
_____Kelin pulled out the talisman about his neck as he walked, and looked at it. He remembered Berenav, and suddenly knew why Vimar had kept it. It was a reminder. A reminder of the terrible slaughter that day. A reminder of what must never happen again.
_____He looked up at the soulborg walking in front of him, and suddenly he knew. It was as clear as the light falling upon the soulborg’s armor. Everything Odin allowed had a reason. Why had he allowed such an atrocity at Berenav? So that Valhalla would know never to do it again. Why had he allowed Kelin to spread so much misery through his killings? So that he would know why he must instead spread kindness.
_____He looked down at the talisman in his hands. It wasn’t just a symbol of the price which had been paid at Berenav. It was a symbol of the price, the reason, the cost of the good which could spring from the evil.
_____It was up to Kelin and those who followed, how many times the price would have to be paid before they turned from the evil, and did the good.
Re: Fan Fic Contest - Deadline March 8th, word limit 15000
Quote:
Originally Posted by The Grim Reaper's Friend
And the moral of the story is to never count me out, even if judging day has come. I present to you, an untitled work. After writing it, I realized that while it has allies fighting as a setting, the fighting is never actually shown. Hopefully that doesn't detract too much. Be prepared for switching PoV's and times.
Note: Out of necessity, there is some brief gruesomeness.
Spoiler Alert!
Valhalla, Second Year of the War.
_____Utgar marches north against Jandar. Vydar, Utgar’s ally, battles for control of his lands against the forces of Ullar, but if help doesn’t arrive soon, he will be overrun, the province of Anund claimed by Ullar. Einar presses north in a desperate attempt to aid Vydar, but a large swath of Jandar’s territory, rife with castles and fortified cities, bars his way…
_____Vimar took a breath, held his wings close to his body, and kicked the door in. He didn’t know why he bothered. The house only had two walls left standing.
_____His foot went right through the door, splintering the blackened wood with barely any resistance. The rest of the door quickly followed, the planks dropping from the crumbling doorframe like so much overripe fruit. Vimar coughed on the ash and dust which assaulted him through his golden mask, and, waving his hand in front of his face in a hopeless effort to clear the air, entered the house.
_____Flames, small but still burning, licked at the walls in places. What was left of the ceiling was now covering the floor in a carpet of blackened rubble. Vimar kicked a few planks aside and moved into the house. The planks disintegrated to ash the moment his boot touched them.
_____Einar would be pleased. The spell had worked far better than anticipated. It was supposed to strike the city of Benerav with a single bolt of magic; a bolt so powerful that it would leave a crater in the central plaza, and hopefully cause enough damage with the shockwave to allow Einar’s troops to break down the walls and take the city.
_____The spell had done far more. Vimar had watched, from amongst Einar’s legions positioned a safe distance away, as a black cloud slowly formed over Benerav, red lightning flickering within. All too soon, the lightning had built, the cloud had sunk low, and then a single, brilliant, crackling tongue of lightning had shot straight down, smiting the center of the city which Einar had spent so long trying to capture.
_____Vimar wasn’t the only one to be surprised when a vast ball of flame exploded from where the lightning had struck. It didn’t just consume the plaza either, or the first few houses. It consumed the entire city in a seething inferno. That was of course after the shockwave leveled fifty houses, and obliterated the rest, disintegrating them into chunks of stone and dirt. The walls… well, there weren’t any walls left mentioning. Pieces of houses and the road itself had torn straight through them, leaving great gaping holes.
_____It was two hours before Benerav had cooled enough for Einar’s legions to pour in, salvaging what was left. It was precious little.
_____Some of Jandar’s garrison had managed to escape the magic by being located in the underground bunker at the time. They were few in number, and the Imperium quickly eradicated them, Vimar killing his fair share. They had fled quickly, and the Imperium had dispersed to rat them out, Vimar among them.
_____Vimar choked on the dust and ash which swirled around him as he peered into the house. It was easy to see no one was hiding in it; all the interior walls had been knocked down. What looked like a body was lying in the far corner. At least half of it was. Vimar couldn’t tell where the other half had gone. If it even still existed.
_____Sickened, Vimar turned away, and left the house the way he had come. The next house on the street had what appeared to be half of a well lodged in front of the door, so Vimar climbed over the few remaining bricks of what used to be the wall.
_____This house was even worse than the last one. Part of the ceiling was still up, but the blackened beams sagged dangerously.
_____A whole family had been here. Perhaps about to eat dinner, from the way they were arranged in a circle. Vimar couldn’t tell. Any trace of a table had been blasted away, along with much of the family. A father. A mother, judging by the burned dress. Two smaller figures.
_____Vimar’s stomach involuntarily convulsed, and he had to turn away, keeping his hand to his mouth as he staggered out of the house.
_____Ash was still falling in the street, some of it burning, the rest simply hot enough to burn anything it touched. A few bodies were strewn here and there, swept to the side of the streets by the force of the blast, moved out of the way like so many pieces of useless crumpled up paper. It wasn’t as though they were all civilians. The majority wore the colors of Jandar. Somehow, that didn’t make Vimar feel any better.
_____‘I hope Einar’s happy,’ he thought to himself as he moved to the next house. ‘I hope he’s proud of what he’s found his wellspring can do.’
_____A crunch met him as he put his foot down. He looked down. A skull. A human skull, the flesh completely burned away. He couldn’t tell if it was male or female, child or old man.
_____Vimar removed his boot, but he didn’t look away. He didn’t have the right to look away. He had known what Einar would unleash. He had backed the idea, in fact. Yes, he didn’t know just how powerful the magic would be, but he had still known there would be civilian casualties. Somehow, they hadn’t seemed as real when he was plotting their murder back in Einar’s capital.
_____“Avir.” Help. Vimar’s head snapped up. The voice was feeble, barely audible over the rushing of the flames still raging in the central plaza.
_____“Avir.” The voice ended in a horrible cough. It was a woman. Vimar spun on the spot. She was close. Somewhere close. Somewhere… there! Three houses down, buried under the collapsed eave of a house.
_____Vimar rushed to her. At least what was left of her. He staggered back as he saw that one of her legs was gone, completely torn off by the blast. Blood painted the wall behind the woman, and still leaked from her seared wound. Her face was pallid, her white hair blackened with ash and flame. Blood trickled down her face from cuts along her head as she looked up at Vimar.
_____Her face cracked into a smile, and her eyes widened with hope. “Ilm’f fel,” she croaked, blood leaking from her mouth. Vimar could see she was in shock, not fully aware of where she was or what had happened.
_____“I’m here,” he said, kneeling down and holding her steady, for she had begun to weave on the spot. “You’re safe now.”
_____The woman shook her head. Her white hair swayed from side to side, stiff with blood. Vimar realized she wasn’t as old as he had at first thought. In fact, as he looked at her he realized she was quite young, his age, perhaps. He suspected that without the loss of blood and covering of ash, she had probably been quite beautiful.
_____“My son,” she said, something gurgling in her throat. “My son.”
_____“Where is your son?” Vimar asked. She was half mad; her eyes were having trouble staying focused on him.
_____“Across the street,” the woman said vaguely, waving her hand to the burning ruin of cobblestones next to her. “Across the… yes. Bring him. Please?”
_____“I don’t know where he is.”
_____“No matter. No matter. Here, take this to him. I made it for him. He’s been expecting it… give it to him. Give him the wood. No, not the wood… the… the….” She fumbled with the collar of her dress, trying to get at something on a chain about her neck. Her fingers were cut and bleeding, and she actually tore the neck of the fabric before she pulled out what she was looking for. Dangling at the end of a thin chain was a simple wood carving. Vimar guessed it was supposed to be a kyrie in full flight.
_____The carving’s wings had been snapped, and a long crack ran down the middle of the figure. Blood covered one side, smearing the rough features with dark red.
_____“Here. Here. Take it to my son. He’s been waiting. He’ll be so excited!” For a moment the woman’s happiness shone through and Vimar saw a young girl in the face, even through the ash and blood. He couldn’t bear the sight.
_____“Take it! Take it!” The woman shoved the carving into his hands.
_____“I can’t,” Vimar said, feeling his stomach clench again. “I can’t.”
_____“He’s just on the other side of the street,” the woman said, perhaps not hearing him. “Just there. Take it to my son. Take it to him. Take it to—” She suddenly let out a cry of pain and fell to the street, her elbow, which she had been propping herself up on, giving way. She hit her head before Vimar could do anything.
_____He quickly reached out and held her head as her eyes flew from side to side. Her body shuddered with quick breaths. Her eyes found his, but something had snapped in them. They seemed older.
_____“Please,” she whispered, holding his gaze, “please… find my son. Give him the carving. He’s been… waiting… waiting so long…” She pressed the carving into his hand, and then gripped both the carving and his hand very tightly. He winced at the pain, but then her grip relaxed. Her hand fell. Her body sagged, and became still.
_____Vimar sat there for a moment, his mind locked in a whirl of conflicting reactions. Part of him wanted to vomit. Part of him wanted to run. Part of him wanted to just close his eyes and pretend none of it had happened. But he could do none of those things. He wouldn’t.
_____He could feel the rough wood of the carving against the skin of his palm, and closed his fist about it. They had tried to take Benerav for eight months. They had succeeded. And the carving Vimar held had been the price.
Valhalla, sixty-fourth year of the War.
_____Einar and Vydar have long since joined Jandar against Utgar, but the devilish Valkyrie proves impossible to beat. Factions have broken away from the generals and joined each other, among them the elves, soulborgs, and marro. They now claim their own wellsprings, and all save the marro remain resolutely neutral.
_____“Keep those doors shut! Bring the wounded over here! Vor, get to work on those controls! We need this wellspring operational in five minutes!”
_____There was a thud on the door. Jaseff and Vilda, holding it shut, fell back.
_____“Keep it closed! Keep it closed!” Kelin ran to them, bracing the door with his own shoulder. The soulborgs couldn’t get through. They were so close.
_____“This isn’t worth it, Kelin!” Vilda cried, scrambling to her feet. “The soulborgs will let us go if we surrender now; there are easier ways to strike against Jandar!”
_____“No!” Kelin shouted. He had to shout, for the large room they were in echoed as though a waterfall were rushing into it. The thunder came from the center of the room, where a thick hub of metal covered what had once been a wellspring.
_____“It’s got to be this way! If we leave now, Einar will track us down in an instant and slay us as traitors. He would never understand!”
_____“He understands plenty,” Jaseff said, springing to his feet as well. “He would understand, Kelin. We should go to him.”
_____“Brace the door!” Kelin yelled, shouting in Jaseff’s face as the door rumbled again. “Einar won’t understand. He can’t.”
_____“They’re right, Kelin,” Vor shouted from the wall, where he was fiddling with dials and switches. “Einar has felt the pain of loss. He understands the thirst for revenge.”
_____“Not mine!” Kelin bellowed. “Not mine! Einar never had a six-year-old brother he had to watch over night and day. Einar never had that brother dragged into the street by Jandar’s kyrie. Einar never saw him get his head bashed in with one hammer blow.”
_____Kelin didn’t grow weak as he said these words. He didn’t sag against the door as the memories came flooding back. He got stronger. The burning rage returned, filling him with hate towards Jandar and all those who served under him. Einar would never understand. How could he?
_____It had started decades ago, back when Einar and Jandar still fought each other. Some attack had been taken personally, and the path of revenge had never cooled, shifting back and forth as each subsequent attack was avenged with as much bloodshed as possible. Sometimes individuals had been held responsible. Sometimes whole cities had been burned just to get at one man. And the slaughter hadn’t stopped when Einar joined Jandar. If anything, it had intensified.
_____A band of Jandar’s kyrie, disobeying their general, had found Kelin’s family guilty of the latest in the chain of atrocities, and had slain his brother. Kelin had spent his life protecting helpless Beran. He had sworn nothing bad would ever happen to him. He had exacted his revenge against the kyrie, but Jandar needed to pay.
_____Kelin had grown up with no mother, and with only his father, weakened from an old wound and unable to stand, for a parent. It was he who had looked after them all. It was he who had taken care of little Beran, the sickly child too weak to walk until he was four. It was he who had watched Beran be slaughtered.
_____But it was more than that. He had seen countless lives claimed by Jandar’s thirst for revenge. And by Einar’s for that matter. He had grown up protecting someone who couldn’t protect themselves, so perhaps it was natural he wanted to stop the conflict. Perhaps it was natural that he couldn’t let another innocent die. He had sworn he would protect all those who couldn’t protect themselves, even as he had protected Beran. He had failed in both counts, but he couldn’t let the failure be the final say. He might be just another link in the chain of revenge, but he would be the last. This would end it all.
_____“Vor! How long?”
_____“Two minutes. But Kelin, they’re right. Einar would—”
_____“EINAR WOULD NOT UNDERSTAND!” Kelin bellowed at Vor, spit actually flying across the room. “Do you understand? This is going to happen! We will use this wellspring to obliterate Jandar’s hometown, and then it will be over.” And it would be over. Jandar would never recover from such a blow.
_____Long ago, at the onset of the war, Einar had discovered a spell, a spell which turned his wellspring into a weapon of unthinkable destruction. Not knowing the extent of its power, he had used it against a city of Jandar’s – Benerav, Kelin thought it had been called. The city had been annihilated. The few who had survived soon died from their wounds. The entire city was decimated, wiped off the face of the earth. Einar, in horror, had sworn never to use such a weapon again, but it was that kind of destruction that Kelin needed. He needed the finality that came with it. The attack to end all attacks. He would fulfil his promise to his brother, and everyone else who had died wrongly. And the key was right before him: the wellspring of the soulborgs.
_____The soulborgs had fitted some sort of metal platform over the wellspring, and somehow devised a way of controlling it through a vast panel of dials and switches. Kelin knew exactly what needed to happen to unleash the wellspring upon Jandar’s hometown, and Vor knew the controls.
_____“I can’t do this Kelin.” It was Vor who spoke.
_____“What?”
_____“I won’t do this. It isn’t right. You’re just going to create—” Kelin strode across the room and shoved Vor aside. “I’ll do it myself then,” he said. “Go help brace the door.”
_____Vor looked at him for a moment, but then turned, and ran to help Jaseff and Vilda hold the door against the soulborgs.
_____Kelin worked feverishly, pulling levers, turning dials, and flipping switches. Behind him, the wellspring’s roar began to grow louder, and a rushing filled the room, as if they stood in the midst of a stampeding herd of great beasts. The walls began to shake.
_____Kelin knew there was only one way out of this. Once they used the wellspring, the soulborgs would never let them leave alive. The only way out was through the wellspring itself. But before they escaped, Kelin had to do what he came here for. He had to hold true to the oath he had sworn. He couldn’t let the suffering continue.
_____“Spirits of my ancestors,” Kelin said, speaking quietly so only he could hear, “protect me now. Let me carry out this final deed.” He briefly pulled from beneath his armor a talisman, a token passed down from generation to generation. Kelin liked to think keeping it close meant the spirits of his ancestors watched over him. He clutched it to his chest briefly, and then stuffed it back down his armor, where it hung on its chain against his chest.
_____The talisman was a curious object. It was a simple wood carving – a bit poorly done to be honest – of a kyrie in full flight. The wings were snapped off, and a crack ran through the middle. Half of it was stained dark. But Kelin wouldn’t have parted with it. It had been in his family for four generations, originating with his great grandfather, Vimar.
Valhalla, Second Year of the War.
_____Einar, realizing what he has done, has sworn never to use his wellspring for such devastation again. The secret of the spell he used is kept under lock and key, so that no other may use it. Vimar has long searched his soul for a reason for the senseless destruction, but some quests are doomed to never be completed…
_____“I’m relieving you of duty, Vimar.”
_____Vimar stood rigid, but nodded his acknowledgement.
_____“You’ve served me well, and your actions have been noted. I’m promoting you to General of the Second Order, and retiring you with honors.”
_____“Thank you, sir.”
_____“Vimar.”
_____Vimar looked down. Einar was looking at him, not as a commander, but as a friend. “I need you to know I’m not trying to get rid of you.”
_____“Yes, sir.”
_____“I’m not,” Einar repeated. “Ever since Benerav you’ve been distracted. You can’t keep your mind focused on your duty. Leaving you in command would be a danger, not only to me and my men, but to yourself. I need you to understand that.”
_____“Perfectly, sir.”
_____Einar sighed. “Go home, Vimar. Enjoy Valhalla as it was intended to be seen: green rolling hills, grassy plains, bubbling creeks. Go home to your family. You’ve given this war more of your life than it deserved, live out the rest of it with them.”
_____“Thank you, sir.” Vimar bowed and turned to leave.
_____“And Vimar,” Einar said. Vimar paused. “I hope… I hope you find what you are looking for. I too would like to hear it.”
_____There was a moment of silence. Then Vimar turned his head and glanced at Einar. “I’ve searched for many months,” he said. “I don’t know if there is a reason at all for what happened at Benerav. But I will find it if it exists. I must. And you will be the first I tell once I find the answer.”
_____Einar nodded. “Good luck, my friend. And goodbye.”
Valhalla, Sixty-Fourth Year of the War.
_____A group of Einar’s warriors, led by the kyrie Kelin, have deviated from their orders to seek revenge against Jandar. They have assaulted the soulborg wellspring in a surprise attack, and now intend to use it to wreck the same destruction Einar once wrought on Benerav. They are very close…
_____“What’s going on, Vor!?!” The metal hub covering the wellspring glowed ominously, and another brilliant flash of light filled the room.
_____“It’s normal!” Vor shouted back over the rushing of the wellspring. “The soulborgs tried to contain the raw magic in metal. It works most of the time, but it can be overpowered when the wellspring is in use. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt us!”
_____Kelin hoped Vor knew what he was talking about. The metal hub of the wellspring was pulsing with white light, and every few seconds, there would be a brilliant flash, and something – a shard, a ball, some fragment of pure light – would blast away from the metal and soar across the room, passing out through the wall.
_____“What if one of those things hits us?” Kelin yelled back, as the wellspring gave off another flash.
_____“It’ll disorient you for a second, but you’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.”
_____The wellspring had been kept dormant by the soulborgs, but it was nearing the power level Kelin needed. Very soon, he would be able to destroy any city in Valhalla, though there was only one which would burn tonight.
_____Assuming the wellspring held. The flashes were becoming more frequent. The orbs of light were becoming larger, and now Kelin could see dark patches swirling in them as they flew towards the walls.
_____Soon the patches of light were bigger than Kelin’s head. Then they were bigger than his torso. Eventually a flash of light sped across the room bigger than all of Kelin put together.
_____He could see into them clearly now. They were flashes, moments of different times and places. He could see people moving, animals running, the sun beating down on a Valhalla he didn’t recognize. Who knew if he was looking at the past or future? Who knew if he was looking at Valhalla at all?
_____One minute. One more minute until he could exact his revenge. The door was holding. The wellspring was stable. It was going to work.
_____The wellspring flashed with light, and the largest patch yet detached itself and flew across the room – straight for Kelin.
_____He had no time to duck or dodge to the side. The light flew straight into him, and then through him, soaring through the wall behind him like all the others. Kelin, however, never saw where it had gone.
_____The moment the light had touched him, all sound had faded. His surroundings had faded and blurred, and then rearranged themselves in a ghostly bluish-gray version of a setting Kelin had never seen.
_____He was standing in the middle of a city. At least, what had once been a city. Scattered flames licked at the remnants of houses. The cobblestone streets were torn up, chunks of rock lay strewn about them. Ashes, some burning, some simply hot enough to burn through anything they touched, descended from the sky.
_____A man, a kyrie Imperium like Kelin, stepped out of one of the ruined houses. He looked right through Kelin, not seeing him, but Kelin recognized him instantly from the pictures he had grown up with. He was Vimar, Kelin’s great grandfather. The wellspring was showing him the past.
_____“Avir.” Help.
_____Both Kelin and Vimar turned at the cry, searching for the source. After another cry for help, Kelin saw the woman, lying half buried under the fallen eave of a house. Vimar spotted her a second later, and ran to her, Kelin close behind.
_____The woman tried to shove something into Vimar’s hand. Kelin leaned closer, trying to see what it was. A carving, roughly hewn. A kyrie in full flight. Its wings were snapped off, and a crack ran down its middle. Blood stained one side of it.
_____Kelin reeled back. This was where his talisman had come from? He yanked it from beneath his armor, staring at it, and then back at the version the woman held. His was more battered and worn, but it was clearly the same carving. Why would Vimar have kept it? Why would he have passed it down through the generations?
_____Kelin backed away. He wanted the vision to stop. He didn’t want to be here any longer, observing the destruction of what he now knew must be Berenav. He turned and ran down the street.
_____The central plaza was still burning, but Kelin felt no heat from the flames. They passed around and through him harmlessly, for he was a mere memory in their time. He ran into them, hoping to escape, hoping that they would somehow end the vision. They did not.
_____Kelin saw something dark lying across his path, and stumbled in an attempt to avoid it, forgetting he would just pass through it. He tripped and fell, landing on the broken cobblestones (visions seem to have undefined laws about what is and isn’t solid).
_____The dark object he had seen now lay beside him, its eyes staring into his. It was a kyrie. Burnt to a cinder, its lifeless eyes robbed of their eyelids and quickly drying in the intense heat. Kelin couldn’t look away. He tried to get up, but his legs didn’t seem to work. He shoved himself away from the staring gaze, using his arms as best he could. He bumped into something and looked behind him. Another body.
_____This one was a woman, quite a bit less burned than the body he had just seen. Bits of skin still covered her, and even her dress was intact in places. To her breast she clutched a small form, flames running up and down it, searing it. A child.
_____Kelin caught a faint trace of motion in the child. It was still alive. On fire, being burned alive, trapped by its mother’s dead body.
_____“NO!” Kelin shrieked. He tried to pull the child from its mother’s grasp, but his hands passed straight through it. The stirring grew fainter, and then ceased altogether as the flame claimed its latest victim.
_____Kelin surged to his feet, feral panic seizing his heart. This, this was the kind of suffering he had sworn to stop. He was trapped among it. He had to either get out, or stop it. And he was powerless to stop it.
_____He staggered out of the flames, ran past Vimar, still bent over the woman, and down the street. More ruined houses. Men incinerated in the streets. Dead women shielding their children. The body of a young girl, burning silently. Kelin’s mind was reeling. Such destruction. Such slaughter. He staggered sideways, and passed through the wall of a house. The burnt corpse of a husband sheltering his wife. He backed away, passing into another house. Another grisly scene. And another. And another.
_____“STOP!” Kelin bellowed, forcing his eyes shut. He couldn’t see it. He couldn’t.
_____But then the sounds shifted. The screams and raging of flames died away, replaced by silence. Silence… and the gurgling of a brook.
Valhalla, Third Year of the War.
_____Vimar has returned to his family in Lindesfarme, but he has come home a changed man. He is haunted, haunted by the questions he cannot answer, the deaths and destruction he cannot justify. Unseen, Kelin watches his ancestor…
_____Vimar sat still, face in hands. The brook gurgled merrily beside him, but none of its happiness spread to him. How could it, after what he had seen? The capacity to feel happy had left him after Berenav. Many things had.
_____“Vimar?” His wife sat beside him. “Did you sleep last night?”
_____Vimar shook his head without removing it from his hands. “Can’t,” he croaked.
_____“The war?” his wife asked quietly.
_____Again, Vimar shook his head.
_____“Berenav?”
_____A single nod.
_____“It was a year ago, Vimar. Terrible things happen in a war. Not all of them can be justified.”
_____Vimar raised his head to look at his wife. His eyes were shadowed with lack of sleep. “But all things should be justified,” he said. “Odin doesn’t let anything happen without good reason. If I knew why Berenav happened, I could move on. But the knowledge escapes me.”
_____He was silent for a moment, and then turned fully to his wife, his eyes searching hers. “How?” he asked her. “How could Odin let such a thing happen?”
_____“We cannot know the will of Odin,” his wife said gently, laying her hand upon his. “It must be enough to know that he has a reason for all things. Even Berenav. It is not our place to know his plan.”
_____“A reason?” Vimar echoed. His voice took on a hallow tone. “I saw children burned alive. I saw women buried within their own houses, slowly roasted from the outside. I saw men impaled by stakes thrown out by the blast. What possible reason could there be for that? What good can possibly come out of so much evil?”
Valhalla, Sixty-Fourth Year of the War.
_____The wellspring is ready. The target is locked. Any moment now, Einar’s terrible weapon will once again be unleashed against Jandar…
_____“NOOOO!”
_____“Kelin! What are you doing? What’s wrong?”
_____Hands grasped Kelin, kept him from falling, shook him, but he did not respond. The visions of Berenav were still burned into his mind.
_____Vilda slapped him. That seemed to do the trick. Kelin blinked as she came into focus. The rushing of the wellspring returned. The soulborgs slammed against the door.
_____The door!
_____“Hold the door!” Kelin shouted, surging to his feet. Vilda and Jaseff sprinted to hold it, but Vor remained where he was, a steadying hand on Kelin’s shoulder.
_____“You all right?”
_____“Fine,” Kelin replied. “I just saw – It doesn’t matter. Is the wellspring ready?”
_____“Yes. Locked on target.”
_____“Then let’s finish this. I swore an oath to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves, and I mean to keep it.” Kelin staggered forwards, searching for the fatal button which would obliterate a city.
_____“You sure about this, Kelin?” Vor asked. “You sure you want to obliterate an entire city to get back at Jandar?”
_____“Yes,” snapped Kelin. After what he had just seen, nothing could change his mind. “What he’s done, the defenseless he’s slaughtered – he deserves it. They all do.”
_____Vor grabbed his shoulder convulsively. “Think, Kelin,” he hissed. “Think. All of them?”
_____Kelin tried unsuccessfully to pry Vor’s hand off of him. “Every last one,” he said. He had found the button. It was an arm’s length away. He reached for it.
_____“What about the children?”
_____Kelin’s hand shuddered to a halt. “What about them?”
_____“Do they deserve the destruction you’re about to rain down on them?”
_____“I—”
_____“What about the women?” Vor continued, sensing Kelin’s doubt. “Have they done wrong too then? Or the old men? What of the old crone who tells stories? What of the baker who makes bread? What of the blacksmith who works the metal?”
_____Kelin turned to him, his mind iron. “The children will be raised on slaughter and suffering. The women welcome the men home after the murder they commit. The old men are waiting to die, knowing their judgement is nigh for their sins. The old crone tells stories ringed with blood. The baker feeds the warriors, enabling them to do their work. The blacksmith provides the very weapons which rend flesh from bone. They are all equally guilty. They are all my sworn enemies. They all must die. Only then will my promise be fulfilled.”
_____Vor let go, looking at Kelin with sadness and disappointment. “Then you are truly lost,” he said.
_____Kelin reached for the button. “You are wrong, old man. I have never seen my path before me more clearly.”
_____Vor sighed. “Long is the path of vengeance,” he said, speaking almost to himself. “Hearts broken. Bones shattered. Wings snapped.”
_____Kelin touched the button, but froze. Wings snapped. He felt against his chest the lump of wood, the talisman.
_____The woman had made that figure. She had made it for her son. Her son, across the street. Perhaps he was visiting someone. Perhaps he had friends. Perhaps he had played with that girl, burning in the street. Did the girl have a mother? Was her mother perhaps the one in the fire, still clutching her child, shielding him from the flames? What about her husband? Was he one of the soldiers burned alive in the streets? Or was he perhaps the corpse next to her, the dried eyes staring blankly, unwavering, into Kelin?
_____Unbidden, came a rush of visions: all the people Kelin had killed. The kyrie he slew to avenge his brother. The warriors he slaughtered in the name of ending the suffering. Had they had families? Children? Relatives?
_____‘Odin forgive me. What have I done? What manner of harm have I caused to the weak, the innocent, or the helpless?’
_____Kelin reeled back from the button, gasping, his hand clenched instead around the talisman beneath his armor.
_____“Kelin?” Vor’s voice was filled with concern.
_____“Shut it off,” Kelin said, staring at the button he had nearly pressed. “Shut it off!” he yelled when Vor didn’t move.
_____Vor leapt to the panel, undoing the work Kelin had done. Slowly, the wellspring began to subside, the rushing of its waters dimming. Again the soulborgs pounded on the door.
_____“Let them through,” Kelin called. “Let them through – they won’t harm us. They wish to remain neutral in this war.”
_____Uncertainly, Vilda and Jaseff pulled the door open.
_____After a moment, a soulborg, seven feet tall and shining in metal armor, entered the room. Its gaze focused on Kelin.
_____“Kelin, soldier of Einar,” it said in a booming voice which thundered in the room like a judgement call, “why have you done this? What reason do you have for using our wellspring?”
‘Reason?’ thought Kelin. ‘What reason was there for the slaughter at Berenav? What reason was there for the murders I’ve committed? What reason was there for the devastation I nearly caused?’
_____“None,” he replied.
_____The soulborg took a step towards him. “We know the actions you have taken, Kelin, soldier of Einar. You have fought your way through our defenses and barricaded yourself with our wellspring. What possible reason could there be for that?”
_____Vimar’s exact words. Kelin remembered: What possible reason could there be for that? What good can possibly come out of so much evil?”
_____Had there been a reason for the destruction? Vimar hadn’t been able to find one. The senseless slaughter had been just that: senseless. Without logic or cause. Kelin too believed in Odin as his ancestors had, but he didn’t have the answer. He echoed Vimar’s thoughts: how could Odin allow such things to happen? What possible reason could there be?
_____The soulborg seemed to take his silence as answer enough. Two more soulborgs came through the door, and together, they marched Kelin and his followers back the way they had come, out through the soulborg stronghold. They wouldn’t harm them, lest Einar use it as an excuse to claim their wellspring. But they wouldn’t allow them to stay anywhere near their lands, either.
_____Kelin pulled out the talisman about his neck as he walked, and looked at it. He remembered Berenav, and suddenly knew why Vimar had kept it. It was a reminder. A reminder of the terrible slaughter that day. A reminder of what must never happen again.
_____He looked up at the soulborg walking in front of him, and suddenly he knew. It was as clear as the light falling upon the soulborg’s armor. Everything Odin allowed had a reason. Why had he allowed such an atrocity at Berenav? So that Valhalla would know never to do it again. Why had he allowed Kelin to spread so much misery through his killings? So that he would know why he must instead spread kindness.
_____He looked down at the talisman in his hands. It wasn’t just a symbol of the price which had been paid at Berenav. It was a symbol of the price, the reason, the cost of the good which could spring from the evil.
_____It was up to Kelin and those who followed, how many times the price would have to be paid before they turned from the evil, and did the good.
~TGRF.
Yeeees! Competition!
Feeling like an old lurker. 15 years, wow. That's half as long as I've lived. Love y'all like family.
First of all, let me just say that I'm glad we had both a fast competition as well as a competition at all. Keeping the prompts coming and going at a steady pace is a good idea I think, especially when it doesn't come at the cost of fewer stories in this instance.
Anyhow, the entries. Both were really good and technically fit the Prompt well enough, so I was pleased with the results as well as the different interpretations of the Prompt. So 'grats on that front. However, only one could win... ... ...
1st and 2nd Place:
Spoiler Alert!
So both stories had their positives and negatives. There were a few confusing sentences in each as usual, and a few confusing plot points as well. For EL I wasn't sure why the Creator chose Shiroshi in particular to be the special one, nor did I know why He couldn't interfere in His creation except when He technically does anyway by turning Shiroshi into a specter. For TGRF there were some confusions on my part concerning how exactly a burst of light from the wellspring sends one back in time in spirit form. But both of those can be easily explained internally--Shiroshi and his brother are high-ranking officers who know both Jandar and Einar personally, and it's the same wellspring zapping someone descended from the previous incident. I'm nitpicking my cons, is what I'm saying.
Overall my thoughts on both entries were positive. EL's had an interesting surreal spin to them that really held my interest while TGRF's really earned its gruesomeness to drive home the point and the intensity. I think in the end TGRF's had better writing and more intensity while EL's had more character and a better structure. And an odd number of similarities between the two But there can only be One winner, so enough procrastinating.
2nd Place: The Grim Reaper's Friend
1st Place: Elven Lord
Hmmm. It's a matter of mere opinion. I think TGRF's entry was objectively better-written than EL's. But I personally liked Manzoku more. It had more personality to it, which drew me in and kept me around even through its weaker parts. TGRF's entry certainly had me engaged the whole way through, make no mistake, and its characters had more character to them, but I'm a sucker for charm at the end of the day.
Ultimately my Objective reasoning beyond personal taste is a structure issue: I felt that the constant jumping back and forth between time periods in TGRF's entry detracted from the story and probably could've been cut without much consequence, particularly everything prior to Kelin's out-of-body experience. That might sound like only a slight offense but with these two entries so neck-and-neck it only takes one thing to tip the scale.
So there's that! Congrats to [spoiler] and I look forward to the next Prompt!
~TAF, who finds deciding between these things mentally exhausting
TAF was the Storyteller...
in THE ENEMY'S LAST RETREAT
Re: Fan Fic Contest - Deadline March 8th, word limit 15000
Well I messaged EL on FB and he said he would get the prompt up last night. I'd say we wait one more day. If there's nothing by tomorrow, then we draw straws on who gets to do the prompt. Or someone can just do it.
Re: Fan Fic Contest - Deadline March 8th, word limit 15000
I'm here!
I'm sooooo sorry. I got called into work that night and then caught the flu while at work, and then this weekend I got called away to look after an elderly man and then I thought I'd posted it....sigh...adulting. I'll work it up and post it right away.
Feeling like an old lurker. 15 years, wow. That's half as long as I've lived. Love y'all like family.
Re: Fan Fic Contest - Deadline March 8th, word limit 15000
Soo the long awaited prompt has three parts to it. This is a part of the story of the War of the Valkyrie which I simply MUST have. Here goes:
1) Write Drake and Raelyn's love story. The war has ended and it is time for the warriors to begin returning home. Drake has a big decision to make, go home or stay with Raelyn.
2) A flashback of their first meeting (feel free to include flashbacks from any other point in their relationship as well).
3) In the last days of the war, one of the generals summons someone (or other creature) from Drake's past (with or without intent), an old enemy, a previous lover, a sibling, or maybe just an old mentor who reinforces a lesson.
Overall, I do want this to be primarily a LOVE story (please keep the details PG), though as we all know, sometimes love is not all sunshine and daisies.
Word Limit 15,000
Spoiler Alert!
4) I lied about the number of parts, I'm adding one more, a wildcat. You must include a giant sabre tooth tiger for comedic relief.
*the GSTT may be the person/creature from Drake's past.
*The GSTT may be just an STT if you so wish. I just wanted the longer acronym for effect.
GO
:P
Feeling like an old lurker. 15 years, wow. That's half as long as I've lived. Love y'all like family.
Last edited by Elven Lord; March 13th, 2018 at 11:28 AM.