In the Midst of Fire

Prologue

I and my small span of soldiers continued our long journey marching up and down the never-ending North Mountains. We had spent our last two long and tiring weeks pursuing a group of Dolarian bandits that had ravaged many a town. The Dolarians were from the far reaches of the land mass, beyond the Great Vacknar Dessert, past the Barren Land, and deep within the Merth Mountains. They had come from over the sea yonder seeking more loot and plunder to feast their greedy appetite on. Unfortunately, their eyes fell upon the small cities of Ironica, where protection came at a high cost. There was many a wonder among my men if the love of gold was the only reason the strangers had crossed the sea. No doubt a far greater evil lay beneath their shallow desires. A evil that would be the downfall of a once mighty nation. They were getting stronger as the years went by, and now, once again, they had stuck their finger into someone else's stew. We hoped, to be the burn that should soon accompany their outburst; to force them back to where they have emerged, but we were still stuck in the mire looking for our tormentors.

We, a people from Hestington, the capital and most prosperous city of Ironica, were sent to give the Dolarian men the spoil from their pillaging... Death. When despair began to creep onto the minds of our men, the thought entered my mind that maybe it was time to give up the hunt. Despite our best efforts, we had lost their light-footed trail days ago. I took a slow and deep breath preparing to give the order, but my words caught in my mouth as an arrow whizzed through the air over my head. More followed soon after. I heard cries from my men behind me as many fell down to their forever long sleep. "Take cover!" I yelled to my soldiers. Many toppled to the side wounded. "To me!" I cried. The few remaining soldiers made a canopy with their shields, but one man struggled to get to the group. His eyes were glazed over in shock, his sword and shield flailed to the side exposing his body. The soldier was almost to safety when a Dolarian soldier sprung from hiding, plunging his dagger into the young man's neck. More poured out and engaged in the fight. "Charge!" I gave the order. Our spears dashed many attackers to the side, but many more took their place. Slowly, my men began to be taken down by the enemy's swords.

I was the last of my men, or rather the King's men, but I did not surrender. My sword, already drawn, had found its place at my side as I rushed upon my enemies. I would not fail the King. A large Dolarian confronted me, determined to put me to rest. He was the first to swing his ragged blade my way, swinging his sword low to clip my knee. Instantly, my reflexes deflected his slice with the flat of my broad sword. I countered with a full rotation of my body throwing my swords weight into the warrior. My blade crashed against the soldier's sword and sent him into a desperate stumble to regain his balance. Seeing my opportunity, I threw a thrust towards his abdomen. Just as I thought I would hit flesh, a battle ax knocked my sword to the side, warning me of the many more troops closing in around me. I recovered from it quickly and took my fighting stance. Letting these men's horrendous crimes fuel me, I engaged the enemy once more.

I threw slices in every direction blocking blows with precision. Weaving my way in and out of their weapons, I toyed with their training. Each minute more of my enemies were sent to the grave. First five men, then ten. The deaths continued to grow at a steady rate, but I knew their numbers would soon overpower me. My energy began to run dry, my every muscle feeling the last few days exhaustive efforts. I was thrown in the defensive, no longer trying to kill, but to save my life from the sting of the blade. An arrow embedded itself in my right arm and I dropped my sword. My mind began to fade into a pool of darkness. Blood poured through an open gash in my leg. Spots of black clouded my vision. My retreat came to a sudden stop, as I tripped over a dead body.The face staring up at me was that of one of my own men. A sword was coming down upon me fast. My hand found the hilt of a sword that lay nearby, but I knew it was too late to parry the blade that was coming my way. Doubts and fears flooded the interior chambers of my mind. Every corner was filled to the brim with thoughts of regret, loneliness, pain, and death. Was this the end? I thought. Was my life a waste? Had I any real purpose in this world? Would these criminals invade every last city till all the ones I loved were dead? Would I ever find the woman whom I would love for an eternity? Would I never see my children grow old? Would I die by these men's hands?

Then I heard it. A low trumpet blast seemed to encircle the entire battle ground. Every fiber within me began to vibrate with joy. The battle was not over, knights pushed through the enemy's lines trampling them beneath their horse’s hooves. The sword inched closer, nearly piercing my breast plate and entering my chest. The enemy would be repaid but my fate still lay in their hands. I felt as if death was calling me to join the many others who had already passed into the afterlife. The sword fell even closer, but at the last moment was stopped by a powerful and shining blade. The sword's descent had come to an abrupt halt, easing my aching muscles. More troops from the far reaches of Ironica poured into the mountain valley. The soldier above, me who had challenged my very existence, now trembled with fear. In fact, all of the Dolarians started to flee. A fleet of dragon riders flew overhead. I soon realized the King stood over me, then the loss of blood seized my mind again. I closed my eyes and faded into into unconsciousness.

Chapter 1

I opened my eyes to see that I was no longer on the battlefield, but rather in a large room. Soft heather blankets were wrapped around me, and a plush pillow lay beneath my head. Tapestries hung from the walls in large golden frames inlaid with intricate designs. A table sat to my left with a steaming platter of food. I soon realized I was nowhere near the battlefield, or in any place that posed a threat. The room I rested in was my own in the palace at Hestington. I was the King’s son. If I remember correctly, I hadn’t slept in my own bed for six months. Why had I been gone so long and what had I been doing? I couldn’t recall how I had got here, or what had occurred the day before. Fog seemed to swirl through my brain obscuring my memories. Some bad nightmare, I thought to myself as I tried to sit up. A searing pain shot up through my leg leaving my jaw hanging limp in a silent scream. My memory rushed upon me like a roaring flood. The battle! We were ambushed! My soldiers! My wounds! I almost died! Then I remembered. The King saved me.
As I recovered from the sudden memory relapse, a deep voice sounded from the corner of the room. “I would stay lying down if I were you.” My head jerked to the right to acknowledge my company. In a stiff wooden chair, sat the palace herbalist Greshak. Greshak was much more than an herbalist though, he had proved his worth in the midst of battle on countless occasions. He was a capable warrior as much as a medic. “The wound in your arm will be fine, but the slice in your leg hit the bone. It will need some time to heal.” Surprisingly, only a dull throb came from my right arm where the arrow penetrated. As I glanced down at my arm, I noticed that there was no bandage to be seen. Once again a result obtained by Greshak’s herbs and healing ointments.
I laid my head down on my pillow again and said, “Thank you Greshak, I appreciate all of your help. I am very much in debt to you. Now if you would, I would like to know more about the battle yesterday.”
“What battle? There was no battle yesterday.” Greshak answered, confused.
“Don’t mess with me right now, of course there was a battle yesterday!” I responded, my temper rising. “The one I got my wounds from!”
“Oh-” Greshak began.
“Well just tell me already!” I fumed.
“Just sit still and listen for a moment would you? I can’t get one word out with you blabbing something about a battle that didn’t happen yesterday.” I was about to reply when Greshak continued, “The battle of which you speak was over a month ago. You’ve been in a light coma for quite a while now.”
Remembering not to raise my voice I said, “A while? I was out for a whole month? Tell me did all of soldiers die that day?” My heart yearned for some good news.
“Slow down now, too much stress is bad for your health; that or it’s bad for mine!” He rumbled with a low chuckle. “You lost a lot of blood and you needed time to recover from your injuries, but that is only partly the reason you were out so long. As you can see I bandaged you up and did some healing with my herbs while you were unconscious. Most of your men survived with minor wounds and are up and about right now. With a little inspection, I discovered the Dolarian raiders are using a new tactic for attacking. Tipping their arrows with the venom of a kubra bat, they fired them into your battalion. The venom acts as a stunning agent, paralyzing you shortly after it enters your bloodstream. This is why many of your men seemed to be dead when you finally engaged in the fight. Your body had a severe reaction to the poison and you entered into a coma. But all is better now, right?”
“Greshak, you are too clever for me, I think I am going to get a headache…” I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead with my left hand. “The King? How did he get there?”
“The King’s rescue, now that is a story in itself.” The chair squeaked under Greshak’s large body as he adjusted his position. Greshak lifted his hand and rubbed the stubble beneath his chin, “You see, nobody really knows what happened that day. Early that morning the King gathered his soldiers with all haste and rode off straight to where we found you. How? I cannot say. There is something mysterious about your father. That is something you should ask the King about in person. You know the rest of the story after that. The king arrived just in time to save your life and that of your men, nearly destroying all the marauders in the process. How’s that for you? Now let me check your wounds, and then you need to get some more rest.” I complied with his wishes and soon fell into a deep sleep.



Meanwhile, as the prince recovered, General Sanders, and a battalion of soldiers under his command, had recently returned from spying on a Plasma army assembling together. “General, we should report this to the King while we still can. If we don’t warn him in time, all of Ironica could be in danger!” A knight announced from amidst the circle of knights. Fifty men sat on logs around a small campfire discussing their espionage as their horses grazed nearby in a patch of thin grass. The wind whipped through their large overcoats, chilling them to the bone. Tonight, despite the subtlety required by their mission, a fire was needed to survive. Small (What’s another word for like batches? Batches seems kind of big for what I am looking for… Batches also sounds like several individual things coming together as a whole, I need something that represents a grouping of steam.) batches of vapor erupted from the flames as snowflakes drifted into their grasp. The blizzard raging around them was the only thing hiding them from prying eyes.
“I believe you are right Josiah,” Sanders mulled it over. “We may not have enough time to prepare if we don’t return right away. Mount your horses men! We leave for Hestington tonight!” Quiet cheers rang out from the band of soldiers. Gathering their possessions, the soldiers mounted their steeds, mentally preparing themselves for the hard journey home; their

To be continued.