Kingdom of Forlthia

Fil'rahi District

Day 72, 9th lunar month, 792nd solar year

31 cycles before the arrival of the Bal'Ri'Kan

Kel Shaldar gasped loudly for air, his armored suit hotter than an oven as he deflected another blow from the curved blade of the heathen raider.

His parry was too slow and weak, and his helmet rang with the force of the blow as he fell onto his back, stunned by the ferocious power behind the strike.

The pale skinned heathen with his elongated demon skull was on top of him before he could even defend himself, and Shaldar cried out as the long dagger of the raider slipped under the right pauldron and impaled his shoulder.

The heathen shrieked maniacally as Shaldar feebly tried to punch with his gauntleted left fist, which the raider easily deflected before twisting the dagger and digging it deeper into the hard soil, pinning Shaldar to the ground.

I'm going to die, Shaldar realized as he felt his strength abandoning him when he needed it the most. He had been fighting for many hours, slaying many of the heathens, but he could fight no more as his body finally betrayed him.

The raider began prying the helmet off his head, and Shaldar cursed the Creator for abandoning his people as the screams of terrified innocents being murdered and defiled by the bestial desert heathens filled the air.

The helmet was roughly torn off, taking pieces of his nose and face with it, and the heathen roared in exultation as Shaldar eyed the heavily scarred face of the demon that would end his life.

The elongated skull was glistening with sweat, and the heathen began to utter words in the foul language of the desert tribes as he grabbed Shaldar's throat with both hands and began to squeeze, smiling evilly at him with filed teeth that had been sharpened into fangs.

Shaldar did not have the strength to continue fighting, and he prayed for forgiveness as the air was stolen from his lungs. His eyes started painfully bulging from their sockets, and the redness of his vision began to turn black as he felt his life ebbing away.

The impossibly strong hands on his throat suddenly loosened their grips, and Shaldar felt the hot blood of the heathen splashing against his face as a strangled cry sounded before it was cut off and replaced with a gurgling sound that Shaldar knew well.

It was the sound of someone choking on their own blood, and as his lungs desperately drew in life-giving air, his vision returned and he stared confusedly at the bloody spear tip protruding from the heathen's throat.

The heavily scarred and tattooed beast keeled over and fell onto the ground next to him, and Shaldar could now see the blood covered, half naked woman who had just saved his life.

She fell to her knees and crumpled on top of the heathen she killed, and Shaldar could now see the white of the top of her skull where her hair used to be before the heathens scalped it.

Shaldar's eyes locked onto hers, and she raised a trembling hand and pointed behind him before weakly whispering.

"My baby. My life for... my son. I saved you. Now save my... Danir, Kel. You are Lirathi; do your duty... and save him, and your blood... debt to me will be paid in full."

Her hand dropped and the pleading in her eyes remained as she died, still looking right at him as her soul departed from her body.

Her last words echoed in his mind, and Shaldar sobbed with grief, feeling the tears in his eyes as they repeated over and over again, reminding him of his sacred oath and duty.

You are Lirathi. Do your duty.

The words brought him back to his initiation, when he was just barely a man himself as a young Lord Antak bade him kneel and recite the Kel's Creed.

I swear to always defend the meek and the innocent;

Valor will dwell in my heart for all my days until my death;

I will always speak truly and stand against those who tell lies;

My sword will be used only against evil and injustice;

My armor and shield will only be used to safeguard the helpless;

I will be loyal and just, in word and in deed;

I will obey no command that brings dishonor to myself and betrays this creed;

This I do swear to the Creator to do for all the days of my life.

As the last words of the sacred creed sounded in his mind and his heart, Shaldar felt an unseen presence entering his body, bringing with it renewed strength and vigor as he heard it whispering a command in his soul.

Rise, Kel Shaldar. Rise and do your duty to those you swore to protect. Fulfill the promise you made to me.

The voice had a power that compelled him to obey, and Shaldar was back on his feet, his sword already in his hand though he did not remember standing or picking it up.

He saw his helmet next to the limp hand of the dead woman, and he crouched down and picked it up before setting it back down and taking the hand within his gauntleted fingers.

"Thank you for saving my life, noble lady. I promise to save your son and raise him as my own in repayment for the blood debt I owe you."

He gently placed the hand back down on the parched soil and put his helmet on before standing back up and turning to face where she had pointed before dying.

A hundred paces away was a small cluster of huts, and the silence that had settled on his ears vanished, allowing the screams of terror and the cries of pain to assault his ears once more.

He began to run as fast as he could, his armor clanking loudly as he felt an otherworldly rage consuming him and making all his pain fade away as his muscles quivered with anticipation of battle.

When he was less than thirty paces from the first hut, two heathens came out dragging a screaming girl on the ground behind them as she desperately clawed at the parched soil, ripping her fingernails off and leaving bloody steaks as she fearfully cried out for help.

The two heathens saw Shaldar coming and they let go of the girl's legs and charged, their demonic faces twisted with wicked evilness as they bared their sharp fangs at him and drew their swords.

Shaldar felt the unseen presence within himself again, and the sword moved with a quickness and precision he had never possessed before in his life.

He parried their blows, and the two heathens quickly fell before him as he slewed them with barely any effort.

Reaching down, he grabbed the young girl's arm and hoisted her up, ignoring the terrified look she was giving him as he pushed her back into the hut. "Hide, and do not make a sound. I will be back for you!"

Shaldar ran to the next hut, and then the next one, frantically searching for the boy named Danir so he could fulfill his blood debt to the mother who had saved his life.

He entered the next hut and froze at the threshold as he saw a tuft of long, silvery hair attached to a piece of bloody flesh on the packed dirt in the center of the single room, surrounded by pieces of torn skirt cloth.

The mother had silvery hair, and Shaldar instinctively knew he had finally found the right hut. He softly called out the boy's name as he lifted his visor, carefully scanning the dark interior for any threats.

"Danir?"

There was no answer, and he tried again, still speaking softly so as not to scare the boy into further silence.

"Your mother sent me to get you. You are safe now, Danir. Show yourself so I may get you away from here."

He heard a sound to the right and pivoted to face it, cursing himself for his stupidity as he instinctively brought his sword up and crouched into a defensive position.

A small boy was staring at him, with only his head and shoulders showing behind the small, roughly hewed table laying on its side along the wall.

The boy's eyes were full of shock at what he had witnessed, and Shaldar's heart broke at the loss of Danir's innocence as the broken and vacant eyes stared into his own, not truly seeing anything.

Fil'rahi District

Day 35, 4th lunar month, 799th solar year

7 cycles later

"Are you my father, Kel Shaldar?"

Shaldar froze at the question; the steaming spoon of Kilth stew stopping right in front of his mouth as the 10-year-old boy eyed him with bold curiosity.

Shoving the spoon into his mouth, Shaldar chewed slowly to buy his panicked mind time to find an answer to the boy's unexpected question.

One of the central tenets of the Kel's Creed appeared in his mind, reminding him of his duty as he finally looked in the boy's eyes.

I will always speak truly and stand against those who tell lies.

"No, Danir. I am not your father, though I do think of you as my son. Your mother made me promise to look after you, and I will fulfill my vow and my duty to you until you reach the age of manhood."

"Can I call you Father, Kel Shaldar?"

The spoon fell out of his hand and clattered against the bowl as Shaldar stared at Danir in shock, never expecting the boy to want him to be his father.

As he felt his eyes welling up with tears, Shaldar gave the boy he loved as a son a rare smile before answering the question.

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"Yes, my son. You may call me father."

Shiltar District

Kingdom of Forlthia

Day 17, 7th lunar month, 804th solar year

5 cycles later

Danir gritted his teeth as one of the heathens grabbed his hair and roughly shoved him into the dark interior of the demon chieftain's tent, forcing himself not to fight back as he felt the sharp-edged dagger pressing against his neck.

His eyes rapidly adjusted to the dimness, and he could now see the many unwashed and pale heathens surrounding the demonic looking chieftain seated on his jewel studded throne.

The elongated skull of the leader was draped in many fine links of silver and gold, and his sharpened teeth were capped with gold as well, making his mouth shimmer as he snarled at Danir before speaking the foul guttural language of the desert heathens.

One of the heathens behind him punched Danir on the side of his head before screaming in bastardized Forlthian, ordering him to bow and pay homage to the Chieftain of chieftains.

Danir refused to submit and continued to glower at the chieftain who had attacked his people and taken his gravely wounded father captive, most likely to torture to death.

The heathen screamed at him again before falling silent as the chieftain raised a single hand and barked an order.

A few moments later, a young woman was dragged from the back of the tent and roughly shoved onto the floor in front of the chieftain, the colors and symbols of her clothes marking her as a peasant of Lord Antak, who was also Danir's father's lord.

The chieftain barked at the cowering woman for some time and then pointed at Danir. She turned around hesitantly and then faced Danir, making his heart skip as the most beautiful woman he had ever seen in his life looked directly at him before speaking timidly.

"The Chieftain of chieftains... demands to know why you were not armored like a Lirathi is supposed to be; he says the fourteen warriors you slew will earn you no honor since you pretended not to be Lirathi to trick them into battling you.

The penalty for this is to be dragged behind a galloping steed until all the flesh has been scoured from your bones, and then for your bones to be scattered far from each other so your spirit becomes lost forever."

Danir forced himself to look away from the stunning lilac-colored eyes of the beautiful woman, regretting that she did not have the courage to commit suicide before allowing herself to be captured.

She looked like she had not been defiled yet, but the heathens were beasts, and it was well known that many women captured by them died within days after suffering greatly from the unspeakable violations heaped upon them by the depraved beasts.

Danir turned his eyes towards the chieftain and eyed him with all the hate he possessed as he answered the demon's question.

"I am not Lirathi; I am Kel-don to Kel Shaldar, my father whom I was protecting from your filthy beasts!"

One of the heathens next to the chieftain drew his sword and uttered a guttural cry, and the chieftain barked a single word of their foul language, silencing the beast immediately.

Looking back at Danir, the chieftain glowered at him for a moment before speaking again for some time.

The woman who had stolen Danir's heart was still cowering on the ground, and she flinched as the chieftain barked at her again. She looked back up at Danir, her eyes full of hopelessness that broke Danir's spirit as she translated again.

"The Chieftain of chieftains says you are a great warrior for a Kel-don to fight like a Lirathi; He says it is against their Gods to slay such a warrior like a captive slave. He says he must gift you for your courage, and you may carry as much as you can in reward for your prowess."

Danir gaped at the demon chieftain, his mind struggling to comprehend what was being said as all the heathens began muttering in anger.

The chieftain yelled again, and the muttering stopped, though the anger remained on their faces as the demon leader spread his arms out expansively before barking at the woman.

Looking back up, the woman avoided looking in Danir's eyes this time as she spoke the chieftain's words again.

"The Chieftain of chieftains says anything in this camp is yours, as much as you can carry. He says to be quick about it before he changes his mind; one of the warriors you slew was a son of his, and he finds himself thinking it might be worth risking the wrath of the Gods to slay you in vengeance if you remain here much longer."

The heathen leader stood up suddenly and made a gesture with a hand before pointing at Danir. The dagger at his neck was removed first before the fingers still gripping his hair released their hold.

Danir knew it was a trick, but he would rather die on his feet than his knees, so he slowly made himself stand up as he warily eyed the demon chieftain.

None of the beasts moved, and Danir gave the poor woman one last look before turning around and exiting the tent.

He knew exactly what he was going to take, and he frantically looked around until he saw the hastily constructed stockades where all the prisoners were being kept.

He ran towards them, acutely aware of the many heathens following him as they yelled at each other in their foul tongue.

Danir walked right past the mounds of treasures and expensive goods and spices the beasts had plundered, ignoring the surprised cries of the warriors following him as he continued towards the stockades.

He finally reached the stockades and forced himself to ignore the terrible plight of the unfortunate victims within it as he searched for an armored Lirathi suit with specific iconography.

He spotted his father a moment later and choked back a sob as he saw the lifeless pallor of his father's face. Kel Shaldar, the man he loved, was dead, and Danir was too late to save the man who gave an orphan the gift of a father's love.

Danir turned around, surprised to see the chieftain and the woman within the party of warriors that had been following him, and he swallowed his grief as he cast a baleful glance at them.

Danir pointed at his dead father and then spoke to the woman in a trembling voice. "I want him. I will carry him out of this camp and nothing else. Tell the beast this is all I wish for."

The woman gave him a strange look for a long moment before translating his words, and Danir could see the bewilderment in the face of all the heathens as they looked at the dead Lirathi and then back at Danir, not understanding why he was wasting such a rare opportunity to enrich himself.

The chieftain spoke his foul tongue at the woman, and Danir could hear the change in the demon leader's voice, almost as if he was greatly moved by what Danir was choosing. The woman nodded fearfully and then looked back at Danir.

"He says: your father is truly the richest man in all the world to have such a son like you; when offered all the treasures of this camp, all you want is to keep the bones of your father together so his spirit may rest peacefully, like a son with true honor would."

The chieftain spoke again, his voice now filled with sadness and awe and when he finished, he did not bark at the woman this time as he pointed at Danir. The woman nodded and then looked at Danir again as she translated.

"He says: he has many sons, and none would have chosen to honor his bones if offered the same choice as you were. He says: If only I had one son like you; the whole world would fall before me. He says: for your willingness to honor the bones of the father you love truly, I no longer wish to kill you, and you may pick one more gift from me; name it, and it is yours."

Danir looked at the face of the chieftain and the others, not truly believing them as he waited for the killing blow that was surely to come.

This must be a twisted trick for their enjoyment, he thought as he looked for signs of treachery in the heavily scarred and tattooed faces surrounding him.

As hard as he searched for it, he saw no lies within their eyes as they all stared at him with a mixture of awe and reverence.

All he wanted was his father, but Danir felt something coming inside of him and make him raise his hand as a finger pointed at the woman and his mouth made words that were not his own.

"I want her."

The woman gasped and cowered, surely expecting something terrible to happen as all the beasts looked at Danir in shock.

The chieftain was the first to recover, and the sharp fanged smile he flashed held no joy in it as he clapped his hands once and barked a single word in passable Forlthian.

"Go!"

Danir leapt forward and grabbed the woman's hand, yanking her up roughly and dragging her as he quickly went around the stockade until he was standing behind where his father's body was laying against the wooden stakes.

There were six heathens inside that had been beating the captives into submission with whips and clubs, and two of them came over and looked at him with the same mixture of awe and reverence for a moment before carefully picking up his father's dead body.

They carried it over to the nearest gate and opened it before gently placing the armored body against the outside of the stockade.

Once they went back inside and closed the gate, Danir dragged the woman along until he reached his father and let go of her hand before kneeling and finally letting his tears out as he struggled to lift the heavy armored body by himself.

"If you stop dragging me around like a heathen, I will help you carry your father in repayment for saving me, Kel-don." The woman said quietly from behind him.

Danir grunted in agreement, and the woman took the other side, groaning under the unexpected weight she had just promised to bear.

They slowly and awkwardly began to shuffle away, carrying Danir's father between them as the heathens began to shout and sing a horrible sounding song in the strange throat singing fashion they were known for.

Danir forced himself to keep walking, and he gasped out a question to the woman. "What are they saying?"

"They are singing a song about you and your father, Kel-don. They are saying your father was the richest man in the world because he had a son like you, and they are asking their gods to keep his bones together so his spirit may rest in peace."

Danir grunted in disgust, and they walked a little more before he gasped out more words.

"Danir... my name... is Danir."

The woman did not respond right away, and they walked a little longer before she finally gasped out a reply.

"My name... is Ania."

Two Solar days later

Danir ignored the pain in his knees as he knelt on the hard stone and listened to Lord Antak finishing the prayer. Once he was finished, Lord Antak stepped forward and spoke.

"Look at me, Danir, son of Shaldar."

Danir did as his lord bade and looked up, seeing the kind eyes of the middle-aged lord softening as they saw the grief in his own.

"Your father was my most loyal vassal, and he was also my closest advisor and companion. I shall never find another friend like him in the little time I have left in this world, but it gladdens my heart to know that his son will take over his fief and duties to me and our King. Are you ready to make your vows and take your father's place, Danir?"

"I am, my lord."

Good man, Danir. Recite the Kel's Creed and rise as Kel Danir."

Danir closed his eyes and thought of his father as he began to recite the Kel's Creed, making a vow to honor his father's memory as he said the sacred words.

I swear to always defend the meek and the innocent;

Valor will dwell in my heart for all my days until my death;

I will always speak truly and stand against those who tell lies;

My sword will be used only against evil and injustice;

My armor and shield will only be used to safeguard the helpless;

I will be loyal and just, in word and in deed;

I will obey no command that brings dishonor to myself and betrays this creed;

This I do swear to the Creator to do for all the days of my life.

Shiltar District

Kingdom of Forlthia

Day 67, 8th lunar month, 820th solar year

16 cycles later, 3 cycles before the arrival of the Bal'Ri'Kan

Danir held onto his lord's arm as he helped the elderly man summit the crest of the hill, concerned that so much exertion would cause a sudden apoplexy of the heart as his lord struggled to catch his breath.

They finally reached the top and Lord Antak's chin began to tremble as he surveyed the field of dead beneath him. Danir kept silent, his heart breaking for his lord as the old man stammered in shock at what he was seeing.

Tens of thousands of bodies were strewn across many leagues, and the stench was unbearable as a westerly wind brought the smell of putrefying death to them.

After many minutes, Lord Antak finally spoke in a tremulous voice, as if afraid to voice what he was seeing.

"A field of sorrows do I see; one that will haunt our people for generations, Kel Danir. Was it worth it?"

Danir spat onto the ground and looked at his lord, determined to give him the truth he deserved.

"The last of the heathens are dead. No more will we suffer their depredations, and I have avenged my father, and all the mothers and fathers taken away from our people by those foul beasts.

But was it worth it? No, my lord; it was not worth all the sons of our people who lay here dead and are now gone forever. I am finished too, my lord; I cannot kill anymore and return to my wife and daughter with such evil burdening in my soul."

Lord Antak glanced sideways at him and nodded knowingly before speaking.

"I understand, Kel Danir. You should return to Ania and Shaldari, and live the life of peace you truly deserve. You have my blessing, and I release you from your duties and vows. Where will you go, Danir?"

Danir looked back over the field for a moment before answering his lord's question.

"I will build a farmstead a few leagues from here and raise goats and sheep and make milk and cheese. This drought has now entered its 5th year, and very few vegetables and grains are hardy enough to make it anymore. Do you think the rains will ever come back, my lord?"

"The rains always come back, Danir, though I feel as though the sun is getting hotter and brighter every year. I have been receiving disturbing reports of wells running dry and rivers turning into streams, and perhaps this is why the heathens left their deserts."

"I hope you are right and the rains do come back soon, my lord. Thank you for releasing me from my duties and vows, and all you need to do is summon me and I will answer, my lord."

Lord Antak looked back at Danir and gave him a sad smile.

"I pray I never have to do so, Danir. You and your family deserve a long life of peace and happiness. Go, Danir. Go to your family; My men-at-arms will see to it I return to the castle safely."

Danir bowed deeply, overcome with emotion by Lord Antak's kindness and understanding as he felt the old man patting his right pauldron affectionately before speaking again.

"Go, Danir, before I change my mind and upset the spirit of your father."

Danir saluted his lord one last time and spun around, jogging down the gently sloping hill as the faces of Ania and Shaldari appeared in his mind and brought joy to his broken soul for the first time in many days.

This is the last time I will ever leave you. I will take off this armor and never put it on again; It is time for me to become the husband and father you both deserve, he vowed as he hurried to his waiting steed.

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