Almareon part 2 chapter 1

The forest was burning. The acrid smell of smoke hung heavy in the air mixed with the depressing aroma of death and destruction. The surviving wildlife was fleeing from the flames, shooting and scattering over the harsh dry land as they competed for survival. Tree’s were felled as the harsh licks of flame destroyed their trunks and engulfed their foliage. The wind was strong, spreading the fire further from branch to branch soon the immense range of Ecrison Forest would be engulfed and burned to the ground. The elements had turned against the forest but there was a deeper malice in the air. The forest was devoid of human life with but one exception. A man fully cloaked in armour rode at breakneck speed through the forest, his magnificent horse bearing him without faltering once despite the flame ridden trees and falling branches that surrounded them. Yet despite this speed the man was followed closely, the running stride of those who had struck such fear in him evident as he weaved through the fire. The Scolraw were coming.

Arrows began to fly, catching fire in the air as they plummeted towards the mysterious stranger and his horse. As one passed dangerously close to the man’s auburn hair he ducked flattening against the horses neck, ignoring the sting of pain caused by the open wound stretching from the corner of his left eye to his jaw bone. Manoeuvring himself on the horse he managed to swing his partially destroyed shield round, sheltering himself from the worst of the onslaught of arrows. Suddenly a tree fell before them the flames rising ten feet high, the Scolraw were manipulating the fire making escape impossible. The tree did it’s job, the man’s horse was spooked. He reared nearly jolting the mysterious stranger from his seat, due to skill rather than luck the man held his position. Now whispering strange words from a nearly forgotten language the stranger calmed his horse and the glorious beast regained it’s composure.

“Aros, stop running Aros.” The familiar hoarse whisper sent shudders down his spine as it always did. But he was prepared, unlike their usual victims he knew how to block them from his mind, how to stop them from bending his will to their own. Yet the vile voices were still there, haunting him in both his dreams and during his waking hours. Wiping the dripping blood from his face he shook himself ridding his mind of the memories he had long kept suppressed through fear of them over taking him once more.
Through the branches and fire Aros could see the sunlight hovering at the boundaries of the forest and hope glimmered in his heart. If he could just clear the forest he would have a chance, the Scolraw wouldn’t be able to leave the shelter of the forest until dark.

Finally the opportunity of escape presented itself, a clear break in the wall of fire. Urging his horse through it, Aros took off over the sandy Drio plains. Behind him the anguished screams of Scolraw rose through the air. Angry at the loss of their prey they watched in malice from the comforting shade of the trees as the man and horse galloped across the plains. Aros chanced a glance over his shoulder as he rode, already the fire had died down, now it could only be seen as glowing embers surrounding the forest. Illuminating the shadowed forms of his foes as they retreated into the shadow. Aros turned from them his face grim, if he wanted to survive he would need to reach the shelter of the Hellion mountains, still two days ride across the Drio plains.

The plains were desolate. As far as the eye could see there was only sand, dirt and rocks. Both sky and land were empty, neither bird nor beast would dare inhabit the region, for neither would survive. Few travellers ever passed this way, for the Drio planes featured in many a child’s story telling of unspeakable horrors that dwelled nearby in the infamous Ecrison forest, creatures that crossed the plains at night searching for innocent travellers to prey on. Although many people had heard of the dreadful stories none knew of how correct they were, of the Scolraw’s methods of killing and tracking. Of the fear that their mere presence invoked in even the bravest man. For that was the Scolraw’s main power, the fear that debilitated the brave heroes of old, and caused the dragons to cower in fright. Only the ancient elves were above the fear and only they could resist the elemental powers of the equally ancient Scolraw.

After putting several leagues of distance between himself and the forest Aros finally stopped to consider his situation. With no food and no opportunity to hunt in this barren landscape he needed to make a decision. His first option being the Hellion mountains, the vast range of massive mountains bordered the plains but at his current position they were still two days ride away, and there was no water to refill his water skin during the journey. His other option would be to turn east and head out over the plains towards the small city of Alleandro, which laid beside the forest’s safer eastern side.

If he pressed on now he would reach the city by midnight and by doing so there was a chance of him confusing the Scolraw who would expect him to head straight for the mountains. After tracking him for three years it seemed more than likely they would try to overtake him on the route to the mountains. Yet despite knowing this Aros still hesitated to take the route to the white city. It haunted him, regularly appearing in his dreams, dreams he could never understand.

A gypsy traveller he had come across had once told him that in Alleandro he would find the answers his heart desired, but he would also find a great sadness. His curiosity had been peaked at the time and he had planned to visit the city, but as is the way of the world he was distracted by another way to rid himself of the Scolraw and the Gypsy’s words slipped unwittingly from his mind. But now faced with the decision of the mountains and the city he felt his heart dragged once again towards the mountains eager to avoid the city. But his head ruled otherwise, common sense told him that if he was to escape the Scolraw again he must head for the city. In his mind this settled it and he changed direction thanking the gods for the strong wind that was obliterating his tracks in the sand.