Untitled- By Hedeon

Prologue

            A valley of golden grass sat beneath a sky filled with soft, white, lazy clouds. In every direction but north east, an immense mountain range dominated the far horizon. A cool breeze sailed in from the sea far to the west, gently herding the clouds across an azure sky. The breeze flowed over the field, dark ripples forming in the grass behind it. The ripples approached a rocky hill, smoothly breaking on the barren ground and reforming on the far side.

            A lone tree stood mute against the wind, no leaves to rustle in its branches. It was as dead as the hill it guarded. A man sat beneath the tree, white hair blowing in the wind, fingers tracing memories in the dirt. He watched as the wind carried the memories into the sky, a solemn expression on his face. He pushed himself to his feet and rested a hand on the trunk of the tree; his black cloak ruffled out beside him with the wind. The wind shifted, blowing his hair into his eyes. He brushed it away from his face and tucked it behind his ears, which like all members of the Great Arc were rounded on top like a human’s, but tapered to a fine point instead of rounding on the bottom. More memories floated to the surface of his thoughts. He watched them flow from moment to moment, his emotions changing with every memory. Finally, he released them, and the wind carried them away.

            He knelt, and touched his forehead to the top of a memorial. He closed his eyes and let his fingers wander over the scene forever frozen in time. A beautiful old tree wrapped in a cloak of green vines. Long grass dotted with small flowers covering a small hill. A field of golden grass stretching as far as the eye can see, rimmed with majestic mountains. Although the carving held no colors, he remembered them as they were that day: cold and lifeless.

            A single tear fell onto the stone. He leaned away, and placed a bouquet of red and black roses at the foot of the memorial. He looked to the base of the stone where a single word was inscribed: Mustahmaaseal. He stood and looked towards the horizon, his brown eyes reflecting the world around him. A cloud lazily drifted across the sun, casting a shadow over the earth.

A young man approached the hill, a path of bent and broken grass trailed behind him. He paused at the base, black cloak flowing behind him; a subconscious feeling of reverence prevented him from climbing. The man on the hill turned and descended the side, coming to a stop in front of the younger man. The young man saluted his leader. The man on the hill no longer wore a solemn expression. In its place was a neutral face that gave nothing away. He acknowledged the messenger with a nod of his head.

The young man spoke, his voice hesitant. He had never seen his leader like this. “Ah, Commander Solstice, sir, I, um, bring news from the front lines.” Commander Solstice stared at the horizon over the young man’s head. The sound of wind blowing through the tall grass and black cloaks rustling in the breeze filled the gap between the two men. The young man spoke again, with a bit more courage. “A platoon under the command of General Guura Arc Warscythe has taken the eastern garrison. General Fholsok and Major General Kyle are moving their platoons to retake it.”

He paused, the leader motioned for him to continue. The messenger nodded, “Major General Hallsoor has succeeded in beating back Lieutenant Sushami Arc Warscythe’s assault on the southern garrison. Scouts report that Lieutenant Sushami is withdrawing from the battle.”  The silver haired man chose this moment to speak. His voice was calm and emotionless, “Tell Major Generals Sasha and Karin to join General Black Rose at the west garrison. Then tell all remaining officers to fall back to the field just north of the town.”

The messenger saluted again, “As you wish, sir.”

Commander Solstice dismissed the messenger, and watched as he left at a run. Now alone on the hill, he gave the memorial one last look, and began walking towards the arranged meeting place. With every step he took, black cloaked soldiers rose in his wake to follow him. Commander Solstice sensed their excitement rising in anticipation of the coming battle. His people were always ready to fight.

A cool breeze blew in from the sea far to the west. It flowed across the golden plains and whistled over hills. Dark ripples followed in its wake, creating an illusion of waves on a golden sea. The wind rushed between thousands of men and women, soldiers marching in the wake of their commander. It ruffled their black cloaks, distorting the symbol on the backs: Two crossed swords under a gold arc, the symbol of Arc Twinblade.

Two Days Later…

Pre-dawn light filtered through a cloud-filled sky over the valley of the Great Arc. It was an hour in which most people would still be sleeping. The military town of Arc Twinblade, however, was still bustling with activity. A major victory resulting in the end of a skirmish with Arc Warscythe two days prior had given the townspeople an excuse for celebration. The taverns were full of boisterous singers; the streets were crowded with people moving from tavern to tavern, a happy drunken smile was on the face of almost everyone.

            Inside of a subterranean complex directly beneath the town, a more serious mood countered the joviality of the people above. The leaders of the Wraith Faction were meeting to discuss recent events. Solstice Rain, the leader of Arc Twinblade, was hosting the meeting. He waited in a circular chamber, furnished only, by a round table which took up most of the room. Eight carved chairs sat around the table, one for each Commander. Solstice stood facing the wall, studying the large tapestry that covered all surfaces except the door.

            The tapestry depicted the origins of the Great Arc and Arc Twinblade. Solstice smiled when he saw his stature sewn into the story. He turned at the feeling of an abnormal air movement. The door had opened soundlessly to admit the equally soundless arrival of the first of his guests, Commander Bastion Bayslee Arc Hammer.

            At nine feet eleven inches he was tall, even for Arc soldiers, who were usually between seven and eight feet tall. He wore the solid white cloak and uniform of his army, which was only slightly off-put by his long blue-grey hair. Solstice greeted him with a smile, “Welcome Commander Bayslee, I take it that the journey over was pleasant?” Bastion grinned widely as he bear-hugged Solstice; his voice was deep and gravelly.

            “Pleasant by your standards would be a welcome change of pace. Tell me, Commander Solstice, have the Warscythes grown stronger since we last faced them?”

            Solstice grimaced, massaging his sides, “Only marginally.”

            “Good, I would not like to face a weak opponent in the next skirmish.”

The door opened again, Commander Vivian Smith Arc Arbalest walked into the room. She nodded her head in Solstice and Bastion’s direction, and then walked over to stand behind a chair. Small green vines meandered their way around the sleeves of her cloak and uniform, which were both the color of dark earth. Light blue eyes accented her blond hair, which was held back by a simple gold ribbon, revealing sapphire earrings dangling from the point of her ears.

            Solstice inclined his head, “Welcome Commander Smith. Please be patient, the others will be here soon.”

            Vivian’s voice was neutral, “We could end this meeting swiftly if the others cared to show their faces on time.”

            “The Great Arc is vast. Not many move with the fleetness of Arc Arbalest.” Solstice replied.

            She pulled the chair out and sat, crossing her legs. She folded her hands in her lap,         “Your compliment is accepted, Solstice.”

            Bastion played with a pendant around his neck as he walked over to a chair opposite Vivian. “What news from the central Shield, Vivian?” He inquired as he sat.

            “The Imperialists have launched yet another futile expedition.” She stated.

            “I take it your people have given them another reason to fear the Shield?”

            “Commander Draygo’s Greataxes will be hard pressed to find targets for their bloodlust.”

            Bastion threw his head back and laughed.

            The door flew open with a bang as Commander Erika Halcyon Arc Halberd strode in with a grin on her face, dragging Commander Seth Foundry Arc Glaive by the arm behind her. Erika wore the forest green colors of her army, matching with Seth’s dark purple and black uniform. Erika called out, “Look who I found skulkin’ ‘round the door!”

            Seth was panicking, “Wait! I mustn’t go through doors without performing the proper ceremonies!” he sputtered.

            Erika laughed, “Your superstitions are silly, man! C’mon!”

            “The ceremony must be completed before I can enter!”

            “Sol, can’t you do somthin’ to shut ‘im up?”

Solstice walked past the pair, “Commander Halcyon, I would ask you not to kick the door open, but I know my words would fall on deaf ears.” He traced runes in the air near the door and whispered a few words. The door glowed green for a second, and Seth calmed down. Erika let go of Seth’s arm. “Ya’ happy now?” She inquired.

            Seth brushed invisible dust off his sleeve, “Ah, thank you.” He turned to Solstice, “Good morning, Commander Solstice.”

            “Good morning, Commander Foundry.”

Solstice shifted his weight and dodged a punch from Erika. She grimaced, “Damn, I missed. Try this one!” Solstice caught her fist in both hands and threw her at Bastion, who by this time was standing. Bastion’s bear-like arms engulfed Erika’s slender, 7’9” frame, pinning her to his chest. She struggled for a second then gave up. She blew her black hair out of her eyes, “Phooey. I’ll get you next time Sol!”