Chapter One:
Massacre
At last, Aedomir saw them. Like souls floating in a meadow, the company passed silently by the ice-topped pool. Their shadows rose from the torches in their hands and silvery figures rested on the water. But at that moment, Aedomir flinched, as he saw suddenly an explosion of light, as if dawn had broken with mighty fury. The pool erupted into many colours of white light, and a figure burst into a bolt of fire. Shrieks of the company about the poor man pierced Aedomir’s ears, as he seized his sword and cast his eyesight around. Then his vision began to break through the night, and looked strong and deep for movement. What he saw chilled his spine, for around the company many blackened shapes loomed, until the remaining of the men were trapped, horror-stricken like hares before the hunter.
Then, in a sudden woe the crouching stance of Aedomir became rapidly high and his blade shone moonlight magnificent. The ground beneath him trembled like thunder as he broke into sprint and felt the wind aside him part, his feet roaring into dust and speed. The world of night became a yonder shadow, and with that he kicked against the ground so powerfully that he leapt into the sky, and fell down upon the figures like anvil. Aedomir’s cry came so suddenly that for a single moment the night was filled with the echoing of a broken mountain.
His edge cut deep into a beast, and before thought, span round and smashed against another’s sword, thereby it was forced to break asunder. Clanking of blades sang for a while, until the ground was littered with corpses and Aedomir’s blood-stained sword was satisfied. He sheathed it, and turned round to the men before him.
They were dreary with sleep, but reigning cold with terror. The blackened body lay to the side of the battle, weakly mirroring some of the orange torch. A woman went to move towards it, but instead stopped and shattered with tears, comforted by no embrace. The others stood silently, eyes upon Aedomir. Their swords remained on guard and all trembled on edge.
“Sorry about your friend,” spoke Aedomir, in a somewhat tone of warmth.
“Who are you?” one wheezed.
Aedomir held up his hand, bruised with battle, and said, “Drop your swords, fools. I have just fought for you, have I not?”
“A man with questions never lowers his defence, good sir,” the man replied.
Aedomir smiled. “Wise words, wise words,” said he. “What is your name?”
“We should like to know yours first,” said the man, coldly.
“My name is Aedomir. And you?”
The man’s sword fell slightly. “We have no name – such words are meaningless now.”
“Then what can I call you?” mocked Aedomir. “Wind of the mountain?”
“If you need speak to us by our mortal names, then know me as Iared, this is-”
“I am sure these people are quite capable of speaking by their own tongue,” Aedomir interrupted. “Are you the leader or something?”
The others' faces turned to snarls, and the woman looked round, staying her pity. “Outlaws have no leader,” she said.
... I know, I know, bad lol. I personally felt I was combining together too many ideas, perhaps I should just lengthen them out.