Why… why can’t I see…
Flames crackled all around loud and angrily. It was the only noise to break the silence on this broken battlefield. No groans, no moaning or empty prayers. Just crackling flames hungry for more fuel. An angry gust whipped across the field feeding the flames.
Where are they… where is my battalion… where are my brothers…
Time passed, tumbling like sand in an hour glass. Each second was a grain and only one grain fell at an agonizingly slow rate. Then squelching broke the silence, echoing across the sheet of the pan.
“So many wounded,”
“Even more dead.”
“It’s a damn shame. We can’t even bring our wounded back.”
“Fucking Norian war mages. Destroyed our entire battalion.”
“We’re lucky to be alive,”
“The blessings of our glorious Father.”
“Praise be to him,”
Praise be… Brothers… I am here…
The squelching of boots came closer growing rapidly, their pace quickened. And then they started to go away in another direction. Time passed again in that slow blur. There was some shuffling and a loud cracking. Cloth ruffled in the wind and wood broke as it was shifted aside.
“It’s all ruined!”
“Don’t know what you expected. Nothin still living out here.”
“You’re right.”
“Let’s get back to town. Tell the lieutenant it was a waste.”
“Aye,”
Another echo of wood collapsing and the boots squelched away until the crackling was the only company to be heard again. The air smelled like magic, a metallic thing lathered in sickly sweet resin. Over turned soil, forcefully flipped by battle mixed it’s earthiness with the scents that clogged the sinuses to the point where suffocation was preferable.
That soil was cold, leaching what warmth was left as they sank into its embrace. As if it would slowly suck everything down into the depths of the earth to reclaim them. The thought was peaceful, the notion of letting go and giving up becoming more and more attractive.
I have to get home… have to get home…
Cawing echoed nearby breaking the silence. Rapid cawing back and forth between multiple birds. A ruffle of feathers and wings were like thunder. Another bout of thunder as more cawing joined the cacophony. They fluttered away, their petty squabbles fading into the distance.
Is this how it ends… carrion food…
The cawing of the crows came and went as they picked through the dead. Scavengers like them were never far from battle. It was as if some unforeseen magic only known to animals told them where to be and where the freshest of meat would be. They made burying the dead a difficult task.
The smell of viscera broke free of the dead bodies, melded with the pot of other foul odors and retching was an attractive idea. And then the air changed. A surge of a foreign energy that radiated across the ground. It was painfully unnaturally and strangely welcoming.
“Back! Get back you filthy scavengers!”
The voice was male, the accent with which he spoke very Norian. There was a wooshing, something heavy swinging in the air followed by angry cawing and flaps of wings. The crows didn’t try to fight. There was more than enough food to go around.
“Dead. Dead. Oof. Very dead.”
The new comer’s voice was approaching along with the sound of something metal hitting dirt. Finally, the steps stopped and the new voice chuckled. “Oh, dying. Very good.”
The stranger dropped down and came closer, their voice suddenly much louder. “Hello friend. You seem to have come down with a nasty case of death. Deep wound on the stomach and chest. Swimming in your own blood. Not good signs all around I’m afraid.”
A rattling breath was the response and the stranger continued. “Well I can help you. I’m a mage of sorts. I specialize in those on death’s door. And you are already one-foot in. So tell me do you have a reason to live?”
“…home…”
“Home? You’re trying to get back home? I can respect that. The will to live for something as simple as going home, has always been stronger than I anticipated. I will warn you friend. This spell will be risky. And once you get to the other side you may not like what you become. Still sure?”
“…Home…”
The stranger chuckled and got his feet. “Excellent. Always better when they’re willing. Though you didn’t have a lot of choice to begin with.”
The footsteps squelched in a slow circle. The air began to tingle with energy and the voice dropped into some sort of foreign tongue. His words hung on the air, their intent unknown before plummeting into the ground with heavy force that sent tremors all around.
Have to… get home… no matter what…
The words stopped and so did the footsteps. Something sunk into the soil and there was a rush of air above, a gale summoned from nothing. The flap of crow wings echoed all around and their caws went from angry to fearful as the flaps faded away into the distance.
As the air choked with magic the ground warmed as it sank into the soil like a fertilizer. Sank into him. The sounds began to deafen and the smells burned away to nothing. Everything faded away until there was nothing but the warmth and power of magic.
The Harlequin Library 