Fantasy-23

Riding through the forest that layed outside the broken wall, the Anthranhall felt alone; his hope was diminished greatly. Feeling the mounts, he could sense their bestial minds, slowly succumbing to an unknown domination; they were becoming feral, wild.. Reality was setting in, coming closer and closer with every step the mounts took, or were forced to take, it felt like.

“Enough..” he said to himself, raising his fist to signal the stop, looking back to see the breached wall within distance.. The wide path the Clansmen had created to the wall was at it’s end, as they stood on the end of the forest’s line, starring into the field, the swathing forest beside them unable to hide the peak of the Unjaryk, standing tall, but obscuring it’s base well enough.. He thought maybe the flame, protruding from his hand, was too much light, making his position known to the enemy, but felt that maybe it wasn’t a bad thing, at least until now, dimming it greatly as he ordered “Dismount.”

“Strip your mounts” he ordered. Removing the cult’s coloured green robes from each horse, the others began removing all the armour off the mounts, piece by piece, as they became even more unsettled in the process. Yanking his mounts reins, he said “Go,” releasing the mounts, one by one, as they ran wild into the field, past the hills, into the open plains.

“Armour off,” he commanded, as he removed his helmet, feeling the heat from his hand that had housed the flame. Stripping down, the men piled their armour on top of the horses armour, standing naked, at the end of the forest. Wrapping his cape around himself to form a robe, he tied it off, commanding “Robe yourselves.” He could see sweat, glistening from their bodies among the flame and he knew, removing the armour was the right choice, as the armour was supposed to be worn without strain, but clearly was not.

Feeling the wind against his body, he looked upon the faces, that he had almost exclusively saw behind helmets.. Back in Naator, was the last time he had looked upon their bare faces. Smoke, carried by the wind, entered his nostrils, reminding him of the situation at hand.

“Ajlan, Braestan, Miari, Santran, Taida and Yaraen,” he commanded, giving them back their wills and in doing so, saw the flame he clutched, decrease into one that a candle would wield and even then, it was a strain to keep up.

Looking at each other, faces illuminated by the Antrhanhall’s extended hand, the confusion was evident. they looked to the massive pile of steel armour on the ground and touched their robes, knowing that if they were out of their armour when awakened, something was wrong.

From the darkness, many roars ripped through the midnight silence.. Their primal brutishness sounded like nothing they had ever heard before and it’s proximity to them was close, “probably on the other side of Tyric”, the Anthranhall thought to himself, knowing time was of the essence.

“Listen carefully..” The Anthranhall commanded.

 

 

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