Young Writers Society

This is the prologue. And on an unrelated sidenote, go Penguins.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the pitch black of the night, a figure stirs in the undergrowth. A tinny voice comes from the shrubs in a strained whisper.

“They’re coming, sir. East-Northeast.”

“I see them…” A hooded figure clad in black stood up from the bush, marking his target with a trained eye and a steel tipped arrow. He drew a bead and took his shot. There was a barely audible twang from the longbow the shadowed archer preferred and a soft thud as it hid the lead rider in the chest. The other cavalry, spraying up dust and dirt around them, rode on, heedless to the danger and their fallen comrade. Their horses frothed at the mouth in fear and exertion, and their eyes only showed white. There was a sudden rustle of leaves as more archers sprang from their hiding places, hailing deadly rain on the mounted soldiers below them. In seconds, the horses screamed off into the darkness, rider-less. More men padded through the trees on cats feet, and checked the unmoving bodies. Their weapons were taken away, and they were stripped from their polished silver armor. The bodies were put into the back of a wagon, carried by wary packhorses.

“Where do you think they were going?” A young soldier asked his frowning superior.

“Running, looks like…” The commander’s senses tingled. “Tell everyone to get back into position, there were Phyrexians on their tail.” The youth slipped away, informing the soldiers in hushed tones to get back into concealment. The commander’s instincts proved themselves yet again, and shadowy figures crowded a small wooded path in the distance. They were huge, with shoulders twice as broad as a normal man, and at least a head taller. The brawny half-men were a hundred yards off, but the Captain’s eyes were as good at night as they were during the day. He peeked through the cypress grove that hid him, and he saw the beasts more clearly. They were in soldier’s apparel, with the raven black breastplates and likewise black armor of the autocracy of the Phyrexian.

The brutish once-men stalked through the darkness, and stopped directly outside of the cypress grove. Captain Mikel tightened his grip on his longbow, and pulled himself farther in. The last thing he needed was for these accursed fiends killing his men. They sniffed the fresh blood on the ground, and suddenly growled as one. The deep-throated roar was frightening, even to the most battle-hardened veteran. Sweat streaked through the dust on The Captain’s face, and he focused on his elemental, Ash. The fire elemental begged to be released into the unsuspecting ranks of the crazed once-men. He held it back only so willingly, and waited for his target to appear.

After several tense moments, the savages straightened and a tall figure strode into the small clearing. He was even larger than the half-men, a head and a half taller, and half again as broad through the shoulders. His voice boomed throughout the clearing in a barely coherent snarl.

“Find the humans, slay them! What are you waiting for maggots!? MOVE!” The huge man whipped around and hurled a spear into a tree. A young soldier fell through the branches and hit the ground, the spear protruding from his chest. The Captain stood and fired at the gargantuan beast, his elemental adding fire to his already powerful shot.

The giant grabbed a hapless once-man and threw him at the incoming arrow. The arrow hit with a sickening thud and the body seemed to absorb the blow, continuing to fly into the undergrowth. The body was suddenly ignited, as was the brush around it. Men dove from the brushfire, engaging enemies at random. Arrows rained from the trees, and heartbeats later men dropped, landing gracefully, their wind elementals easing their fall. The commander silently cursed his elemental for its carelessness and rushed into the battle with his wicked rapier.

The half-men were inhumanly strong and seemed to be invincible. But the Captain’s men were the determined, and had been fighting this war for years. They struck fluidly, confidently, and savagely at the gaps in the once-men’s armor, drawing painful snarls and black ichor from the seemingly indestructible creatures. The first beast to encounter the Captain was deftly cut in half at the waist by his flaming sword. The wound instantly cauterized, halting the black blood from spilling. The creature screamed, writhing on the ground in searing agony. Even though the Captain’s troops were skilled, they were not untouchable. A scream came from the lips of a young recruit squirming in the powerful grasp of a bloodthirsty savage. The creature brought its knee up, and the screaming body down, snapping the soldier in half. A grizzled veteran saw his comrade die, and rushed the beast, calling on his fury for aid. The ground beneath the half-man rumbled, and a rock the size of a man was uprooted and directed at the creature’s head. It hit with a satisfying crunch, and the beast crumpled to the ground.

The battle raged fiercely all around Mikel, and he casually flicked his wrist at an oncoming enemy. It was swept up in a current of fierce wind as Mikel’s wind elemental, Gale, sent the beast spinning end over end through the canopy of trees. Mikel spotted Gareth, his lieutenant, engage several enemies at once. Gareth’s powerful fury, Reigar, came bounding through the trees into the mob of villainous half-men. The earth-born elemental ran rampant through the group, chomping and ravaging the foes it encountered. Five once-men fell to the earth-hound, and Gareth summoned him away. Gareth caught Mikel’s signal nod, and crafted up his water elemental, Reiyu. Gareth stared at the leader of the once-men, crushing the skull of one of his Rangers. The powerful grip crushed the soldier’s helm, making blood flow down his head into his eyes, but suddenly the powerful grip eased, and the giant of a man stiffened. Water flowed from every orifice in his body; eyes, ears, and mouth as the water-crafter’s fury drowned him. The commanding half-man fell to the ground, dead. A horrendous scream came from the surviving once-men, and they dropped their weapons and threw off their helmets, clutching at their heads. The Rangers stood where they were, uncertain what to do next. They stared in confusion at their commander, and Mikel swept off the head of a convulsing once-man. The Rangers copied their leader, and decapitated the rest of the savage horde.

Mikel wiped the blood from his blade on a dead once-man’s tunic, and sheathed the rapier. All around him, his men did the same. A shout came from a young Ranger and was echoed around the glen. Mikel smiled, and joined in the fierce hoorah, hoorah of his comrades. As the din faded, so did Mikel’s smile. He stared at the shattered bodies of his fallen compatriots. He began giving orders, and his remaining Rangers tended to their own survivors and searched for salvageable weapons. When this ritual was done, the men took a moment to rest, laughing and joking as if they hadn’t just fought for their lives. That was what they were trained to do.