I had abit of trouble writing this chapter, I just couldn't seem to get flowing today, so all reviews/comments etc. are all very welcome, I want to improve this alot.
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Chapter 2
Chaos. Just Chaos. The clearing seemed to explode with screams. The Minos where hacked to pieces where they stood, unable to react quickly enough to the sudden attack.
To Bártak, it seemed as though the world was crumbling around him. Men streamed in from all sides, their faces stern in anticipation of the kill. More Minos fell, more blood stained the floor, and more screams raked the air.
Bártak was brought back to reality by the shout of Liana, one of the friends he had just joined. She was hemmed in by two men, both brandishing long swords. They were advancing menacingly, large grins drawing themselves across their faces. Moving in for the kill, they swept in with their swords.
But they never made it. Together, Bártak and Tolko sped in, pulling daggers from their belts. Ramming them hard with their heads, they knocked the two men of their feet, who gave out shouts of shock as they realised there was resistance.
Bártak gazed into the core of the man’s eyes, which were coloured the deepest green. They stared back at him, full of fear, before they faltered, assuming the shape of two dark slits, glaring up at him. They flickered to too the man’s hands and Bártak reacted too slowly, turning as the blade hit his side with a horrible hiss, knocking him to his side.
‘Look what we got here!’ snarled the man, calling to his companion, who had Tolko pinned down under his knees. ‘Two young ‘uns, just what Lord Lutatus will be after.’
Bártak struggled, trying to make out the shapes of his other companions, Liana, Bertha and Yupik, but they were gone, vanished into the smouldering battle that was still raging around them.
They were dragged to their feet, daggers jabbed into their backs as they were dragged to the edge of the clearing. Tolko glanced back at the camp, now burning with a fiery rage, smoke billowing up into the clear evening sky, dotted with sparkling stars, and the flash of a comet as it passed over the atmosphere. The moon, its ever persistent white glow, stood watch over the scene.
Everywhere around them, those who hadn’t been killed outright, where being rounded up, leashed together by thick cords of rope.
Tolko was brought back to his own situation, by the tug of the rope, whipped over his neck, and tightened, excruciatingly tightly around his chest.
‘Move!’ came the shout, and there was a tug, as the group moved off, about eight or nine of them, the ones who had survived the initial onslaught. Tolko looked around, trying to get a glimpse of his father, the Tokrakc, but he couldn’t seem him, and his heart plummeted. His only living relative. Gone.
Bártak struggled as he was dragged along, his hooves slipping across the hard earth, barely able to stay upright. Everything his people had been fighting for, everything they stood for. Gone.
The Minos were herded up about half a mile away, on the edge of a narrow dirt track. They were given a hunk of bread to eat, and a small jug of water was passed around for the prisoners. They sat, huddled together, unable to speak, still in shock from the destruction they had witnessed.
As night began to fall, an old man came riding down the track, his white horse snorting as it clopped along. The man had thin white hair, its wisps streaking around his head. Accompanying him was a younger man, thin, dressed in a dark red robe, and dark brown hair, which drapped down his shoulders.
As he neared, the soldiers rose to their feet, snapping into smart salutes.
‘At ease men.’ Called the commander, raising his hand as he came to a halt. A man stepped forwards, and helped him get awkwardly of his horse. Bártak looked on, noticing the way the man carried himself. There was something in him, some hint of kindness in him.
‘Sir, we have captured these eight who resisted.’ Said Marcellus, stepping forwards from his band of men, who stood, their weapons drawn, alert to any resistance that the captured Minos might ensue. But none came, the Minos felt defeated, all hope had drained from their hearts.
‘Good work Captain.’ Replied the commander, turning his gaze over the captured. ‘But did I not tell you that all where to be killed?’
Marcellus was slightly taken aback, the shock clearly written across his face.
‘What is it Captain?’ The commander enquired, stepping forwards. He had been convinced by Lutatus that it was for their own good that the Minos be eradicated. He hadn’t remembered everything exactly, yet it seemed as if he had been living in a daze. Everything that Lutatus had said was indeed true. Lutatus had helped him see things alot clearer.
At that moment, a single rider bolted up the track, his hair waving behind him as he thundered on towards the group.
‘Sir!’ Lutatus cried, alerting his commander to the new threat. ‘A man, riding up the track.’
The rider reached them within moments. His horse, dark black in colour, flustered slightly as it came to a halt. The rider was also garbed in black. He wore a coat of chainmail, which drapped down his chest and stomach, and plates of mail sat upon his thighs and shins. Drapped around him was a long black cloak, and his head was protected by a large square helmet, with two thin slits to allow the eyes to see out. Stepping of his horse, the man drew out a scroll, sealed by a large black stamp centred in the middle.
‘Commander Italia’s.’ He announced, stretching out his gloved hand, placing the scroll in the commanders hand. ‘A message from King Tyros himself, decreeing the movement of these...slaves...to his capital city Dragonhead.’
The Commander took hold of the scroll, breaking the seal and pulling it open, his eyes scanning the message written upon it:
By royal decree, his highness, King Tyros of the seven kingdoms of the human empire, requests the slaves acquired by right honourable Commander Italia, be transported to the Royal capital city of Dragonhead, where they shall form part of the great display that his highness, King Tyros is eager to create. The show, the Labyrinth, will be one of the great new wonders of the human world.
Commander Italia rolled up the scroll again, handing it to Lutatus as he addressed the messenger.
‘We are honoured to be part of the great Labyrinth that his highness has ordered by created. We shall accompany you to Dragonhead.’
Keep writing this and I will keep reading. ^_^