Lost Pages #1
Time passes far too quickly. You lay down in the forest. "Just five minutes," you say to the trees. "Five minutes to be alone. Then I can get up and go on living." You close your eyes. When you open them again the saplings have grown massive, and your hair has turned to moss. "You were gone too long," the trees whisper. "They've forgotten all about you."
"Have they," you murmur. "How long has it been?" The trees are silent, though the leaves rustle. The winds, pushing the summer breeze through the undergrowth surrounding your body. The critters looking up to you, sculpting around your body, unsure about the movement of the slumbering giant. Deafening silence embodies you, occasional rustling and night sounds welcomed you with open arms, surrounded by a solitary moment. Caught in a trance like state, the desolate night let out a breath- cool and refreshing, quiet and crisp. The darkness, penetrating into the very depths of your body, enveloping you into the reclusive forest. In the silence you could hear your thoughts better than if you had simply yelled.
The sounds of small birds as they looked for food, mice scurrying around, burrowing into the roots of trees, majestic oaks rising into the night, vying for space as small shrubs tried to encompass the ground, littered randomly. "It has been a while," the trees finally responded, "since they've felt a moment of peace."
"The years," you sigh. "They've passed far too quickly. Moments, hours, days, years, a simple fleeting dream from a simple fool." The ground damp under your body, the tip tap of the rain, sheltered by the silver leaves hiding the moonlight from you. You push yourself up, slowly, afraid of breaking the delicate balance you found yourself in.
"Is it time," the trees ask. "Must you go?"
You simply smile, the sorrow reflecting in your eyes. While you look around, the creatures gather. The birds, the mice, the deer, and all those in between, come to bid you farewell. "The land is stained with blood," you reply. "The humans need to be reminded."
So you step out. Out of the embrace of the forest, out from the stillness of time, into the world. The low light of the dawn as it comes in, two full moons peering over the horizon, waving you goodbye as the night recedes. You tread into the road, and back into the world, the weeds wave goodbye. And so you start to hobble down the lonely road, with your walking stick by your side. Slowly, one step at a time. Your body aches, longing to go back into the crevices of the deep, back down the forgotten paths, to take the road with the soft grass growing unbroken. But you have to continue, and push on, embark on the silent promise made all those years ago.
As you walk down the dirt paved road, the brown pebbles lining your calloused feet, you meet those choosing to uproot themselves. "Elder," they tell you, "You have to turn back. It's not safe that way." And you smile, your eyes full of longing, and you nod, but gaze at the path behind them. Your voice is hoarse, your mouth dry, so you just nod, and stare ahead. They shake their heads, and continue on, back away from the problems they left behind. And so you tredge on, one step at a time.
And those one steps turn to a dozen, and the dozen turn to hundreds, and the road goes on, lazily twisting through the heart of the forest. The sun glares down, its rays softening as they meet you, and the breeze sighing as it flows through your hair and your clothes, till you reach the end, suddenly.
The forest opens up, to a field, one full of memories of your life so long ago. You remember running through the plains, leaving all your worries behind getting lost in the tall brown grass, laughing as life moved along. The nights under the stars, the dinners in the village, the wildlife you befriended, outside the edge of the forest that held all your dreams. The hunters, returning as dusk broke, with cheers and torches to mark the day's end. The glowing embers of the ashy campfire dying out while the stars whisked you into your dreams.
You smile fondly, as all those memories come rushing back, but the brown grass you remember was long gone, trampled. Tents, propped up, but not the village you remember, soldiers, littered around them, not the hunters you admired. Torches lit, but not the warm campfires you huddled around all those years ago.
And that smile disappears, for a life left behind, for a promise you needed to keep. And so you stand there. At the edge of the forest, in front of the road leading inside. Your staff, by your side, the road under your feet. The grass curls around your feet, asking you to stop, but the forest knew, for it had woken you.
Night broke into the skies, and the torches snuffed out one by one, you were greeted by the lonely stars dotting the heavens. The moons slowly climbing, the dark creeping in, the silent night, calm before the storm. A still, a tranquil moment to which even the wind paid homage.
And that fleeting moment disappeared before you knew. Dawn broke, and the men stirred, the desolate camp came into life. At first light the army, ready to move out. Ranks made, bronze armor worn, weapons drawn, ready to march. Before that, the scouts sent out, and it wasn't long before they came across you. There you were.
The horse galloping towards you, neighing as they come to a stop. Refusing to take a step further, after they looked into your eyes, asking them to stop. The scouts, urging the horses to continue, before their gaze is drawn to you. Inconspicuous, yet imposing, their instincts urging them to turn back. So they ask you to move aside, but you simply smile. Leaning on your staff, you stand there, tall and proud.
And they ask again, and you shake your head. And they ask for a third time and you shake your head once again. One of them, younger, draws his sword, the other, wiser, cautions him, for something felt wrong.
They start to ride back, looking over their shoulder, unsure about what just happened. The marching of the troops had just begun, a steady rhythm, one step at a time, a thousand steps falling in place. Steadily getting closer to you, no end to the procession. A hundred flags raised proudly to the sky, a hundred long shadows piercing the ground, a hundred men for each flag, the very ground trembl with each step taken forward.
It wasn't long before the troops came to stand in front of you. A voice, loud and clear, commanding the troops to halt, and slowly that rumbling went silent, and everything once again came to a standstill. A few short moments, broken by the lazy galloping of a horse, the sea of people slowly split apart. Your eyes met with the man riding through, one that could be described with the words large and burly, yet at the same time dignified. His armor, a noble silver to contrast the metallic bronze of those around him, basked in the golden rays of the early morning. He came to a stop in front of you, and slowly dismounted, hands holding tight to the reins of his horse.
"We have no quarrels with you," he says, nodding at the road behind you. "We just need to cross."
You simply stand there, and so he repeats himself. "We need passage through," he says. "I don't want to start any trouble."
"Your hands are stained with blood," you reply. "As are the hands of the men behind you." It's been a while since you spoke. You can hear the harsh gravel of the words and they come out of your mouth, low, deep, rough to the ears. It wasn't the voice you remembered all those years ago, rather one that was lost and replaced after all those years.
"It comes with the job," he replies, taking off his helmet. Young, from the looks of his face, a full head of raven black hair, a face missing the wrinkles made by time. "But those with clean hands these days are rare and far between."
"That it is," you respond. "Yet here we are, two of the common breed."
"A passage through," he continues. "We don't want any trouble."
You nod and smile, but the sorrow in your eyes escapes, picked up by the boy in the golden armor. He sigs, and stands for a while, before remounting.
"Times have changed. The treaty can no longer be kept in place," he says. "I have to ask you to stand aside in the interests of the empire." After those words left his mouth, the line of soldiers once again broke, letting through men in dark blue robes.
"A treaty may fall, but the promise made will stand as true as time," you respond. "The forest, and it's kind, made a promise of peace, a debt I must uphold."
"We both have our allegiances to uphold," he says, raising his sword. "A pity, but it seems we stand on different sides."
You nod, and hold your staff out. The men in robes do the same, and incantations begin, the air tenses up, and magic circles fill the skies. The soldiers in armor take up their arms, the tips of the spears glinting in the sunlight, ready to advance, and everything once again comes to a standstill, ready to erupt at any moment.
"I have to ask one last time," he says, pointing his sword at you. "Under the empire, I have been tasked with leading the army east. I need passage through the forest. As one of the few that remember the stories of the old and forgotten, speaking to one of the last that remain, do you dare to stand in the way of the empire and the gods that bless us."
"The old and forgotten, and one of the last," you muse. "A boy that claims to know the truth of the world, yet you stand in front of me, asking me to abandon my debt."
He nods, for he knew your answer, and so he raises his arm, giving command for those behind him to fire. As the circles are completed, and the incantations finish, balls of flames fill the sky, the air engulfed by wave after wave of blistering heat.
As the sky started to fall, and the crimson rays of the sunfall trenched everything in deep red shadows, the first circle shattered. Like a glass plane, struck by a glancing stone, shards glimmering and vanishing with the blowing wind, and with it a sun a mage hunched over, drawing the eyes of all those in the front. A small cough, a gurgle, a pleading look up, as he stumbled and fell.
Dead before he could reach the ground, eyes staring into the world beyond, a thud that brought the scene to a momentarily pause. His body rolled over and came to a stop, those besides him recoiled in horror. Skewed through the soft flesh of his neck, a single vine, emerald green to match the crimson red blood spurting out. As if it was feasting on the blood, the vine was still growing, curling up around the body,
And one by one, the magic circles begin to shatter. One by one, the miniature suns began to vanish, as the ground exploded under them. One by one, in an instant the soldiers started to fall, the grass around them grew, grabbing onto their ankles, pulling them down to their knees. Their swords swung to cut a vine, two took its place, and they struggled to break free, pulled further into the entanglement.
Screams filled the battlefield, some were slowly crushed to death, others steadily bleeding out, dyeing the ground a sticky red. Slowly the screams died out, and the rivers of blood trickled down. The battlefield, back to a silence, the last wisps of life left their bodies, the last breaths taken, a stillness to match the gruesome scene.
And it was over before it all began.
Before the commander had the chance to bring his hand down, he sat alone on top of his horse, in shock, as everything came crashing down. Eyes filled with fear, eyes you were long used to, eyes from all those years ago. His voice, stuck in his throat, frozen in place, he looked on towards you.
"Let your emperor know," you say, "Issetus, the last of the druids, and the first with the debt to the world tree, the speaker of the forest and the blade of the harbinger, the promise will be kept as long as I remain standing. Essen forest is no longer open to humans, the first to break the treaty."
And so you start the long walk back, leaving that meadow behind. A sigh, a hobble, one step, a dozen, a hundred into the road.
The trees whisper. "Is it over," they ask. "Will peace return?"
And you laugh, a low laugh, a laugh of sorrow and dejected hope. "The time has come, the promise made so long ago is being forgotten, quickly losing its power."
"I'm afraid, but the waves of war have just begun."
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