The Lord of Kinslayers

Book 1

Chapter 1
The lost soul found

Rihaeron slowly opened his eyes. The pain he was feeling was unbearable. He slowly tried to crawl up but his limbs were too weak to carry him. So he just lay there, trying to figure out what happened. He mustered a little bit of energy and raised his head. His body was covered in sand and blood - he was washed ashore, the waves crushing into him like a mighty ram.
“ Where the hell am I !” His instinct kicked in, and he let out his energy in a cry of desperation.
Only the birds heard his cry, and only they answered to him in a language only they could understand.
After a while, he slowly stood up. A long beach was stretching out in front of him, with no sign of a living soul anywhere near.
“ I’m wounded…I will not last long” he whispered in elvish.
His face grew pale and the wound on his belly started bleeding.
Rihaeron touched it, slowly looked up at the sky then raised his hands up in anger and fell to his knees.
The world faded away and once again his mouth tasted the sand.


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Sergeant Talar raised his hand and the riders behind him stopped their horses.
One rode from behind and stopped near Talar.

“ What is it sir ? Another trap set by the elves ?”
“ Nay, I think there are no more runaways. I think we got’em all.”
“ Then shall we return to the camp ?”
“ Something is in this bay, I feel it.”

The rider looked around but Talar kept looking on to the horizon. The wind blew a little and it brought the smell of sea to his nostrils through his helmet. The sun was starting to set.
“We ride on.” he said after a while still looking to the horizon.
“ Yes sir.” the rider replied and rode back to the rest of the men.


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They rode for another hour until they arrived at the shore. The beach was pure white, the sand uncorrupted by any signs of steps.
He turned back to the riders and said: “Set a campfire men, we take a break. It’s going to be a long ride back.”
The men got off their horses and set a fire and the smell of boiling soup soon filled the air.
Talar went for a little walk along the shore. Then he suddenly stopped and he stepped in the water.
He was still tired from the recent battles but finally, victory was theirs. Finally, there would be peace, throughout the land and in his soul. He was tired – mentally and physically.
He looked at the surface of the water. His face showed marks of aging, so he only smiled but then he frowned and widened his eyes in horror.
The surface showed a face of one of those they were killing only days ago.
He smashed the water with his gloved hand but when the water became still the face was still there – pale face, eyes closed, hair flowing softly.
“ What in the hell is this ?!” Talar thought, putting both his hands in the water to the image.
His hands felt something so he quickly drew them back and fell back to the water.



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Talar quickly stood up and dragged the body to the shore. It was pale as the sand it was now laying on and it showed no marks of any life.

“ Sergeant Talar !” the rider from before came running.
“ Sergeant ! What is wrong … by the Gods ! What happened ?!” he said when he saw the corpse.
“ Drowned...” Talar replied slowly, spitting out water and catching his breath.
“ He drowned himself rather than to accept defeat…”

Once again silence fell upon them until the elf’s chest rose and he coughed out water with blood.
“ Damnit !” The rider cursed and they both made a step back.
“ How is this possible ! He must have been here for over a day !”
Talar shook his head in disbelief.
” Gods, I can’t believe this…”
“ What are we to do with this one, sergeant ?”
” We will do as we were told – bring all we capture back to camp.”
They took the elf by the hands and dragged him to the others.

The men were in the temporary camp were shocked to see the pale elf breath.
“ Pack it up men, we ride back to camp.” Talar ordered, and though it’s been only 30 minutes since they arrived, the riders didn’t complain at all. After all, camp food is better than just a watery soup.


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The riders built a little bed from the wood they found and they put the elf on top of it. They tied the improvised bed to two the of the horses and soon went slowly back to the main camp.
Once again, the rider came from behind and rode next to Talar who was leading the column.
Aside from serving under Talar he was also his good friend.
It was night and they still feared that another ambush would be set upon them, like so many during the past few days.

This night was remarkable. Every star had a beautiful aura around it and the moon was full, which made them feel it’s not so dark as it really was.

They were going through grassy plains with a few tall trees scattered all over.
The cicadas started their typical ‘night opera’ .
The riders were quiet, only a rare whisper could be heard from the column.
They were getting tired, but they couldn’t gallop or even trot, since 2 of the riders had to pull the ‘drowned one’, as they called him.
They would reach the camp in the morning at the earliest.

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The plains slowly changed to a sparse forest.
Hungry beasts could be heard from every side. A wolf’s howl broke the creaking of the trees.
One of the riders leaned to the one next to him and whispered: “Weird lands these, I tell you. Once we are sent back to our homes I swear I will only dream of these cursed elven lands...” He was interrupted by a loud swish came from the right side and one of the horses stepped on its hind legs and threw it’s rider off, falling on top of him and crushing his armor along with his bones.

“We are under fire! Defensive column !” Talar yelled as he jumped off his horse, drawing his sword while in mid air. There was silence, even the cicadas were quite now. Only the cry of the man beneath the horse was heard in the cold air and even that was subdued after a couple of seconds.

They made a circle formation, with every men having his horse before him as cover.
Another swish was heard from far away and then there were 4 seconds of silence until the arrow came flying straight from the sky, crushing a soldier’s helmet and penetrating his skull. Blood came dripping from underneath his helmet and he slowly fell to the ground.
“ Damnit !” Talar cursed and he could hear some movement in the darkness about.
The sounds of boots cracking on branches and of walking on the ground were heard from about.
“ Prepare boys!” Talar whispered to his men who were holding their swords strong in their arms.

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“ Tarnae!” a voice cried out and dozens of hooded and cloaked characters jumped from the dark on the defending bunch.
They hacked through the horses without any hesitation and finally the skirmish began.
Apparently they were skilled warriors. Talar’s men tried to hold their position, but the ambushers hacked with such a force that they could hardly hold their swords in their hands.
Talar however, was used to a number of different styles of fighting and the ‘rough savage hack’ style was easy for him to counter - defending for a while and waiting for the enemy to uncover himself.
He thrust the blade into one of the attackers. He screamed in pain, throwing his head backwards throwing the hood off. Blood came dripping from his mouth and he grabbed the blade that was in his belly, soon releasing it though and falling to the ground. Talar looked at him closer. These were not elves.

He looked around and half of his men were lying in the bloodied mud. A situation not suiting him well at the moment.
“ Death to the enemies of the Empire !” his heart screamed out and he picked up a one-handed axe from the ground, intending to even the odds. He was thrusting thrust with his sword on one side and hacking with his axe on the other and he put many of the attackers to death, but soon, he was standing alone.

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The rest encircled Talar and there was tension in the air, until a hooded character took a couple of steps towards Talar, pointed a mace at him and said: “ Shael ra hasae !”
“ Shael ra hasae !” the character replied but Talar didn’t move.
He only spit on the ground and said: “I’m a sergeant of the Empire. The death of every soldier here will be treated as the death of our highest and will be treated with no mercy, defiler !”, and he swiped both his hands to cut the man, but before he hit he was filled with dozens of arrows.


The attackers moved about the field and gathered round the elf laying on the ground, still pale.