Tim Marquitz - Dawn of War

The rumble in his stomach had turned into a searing boil over the course of the day. His throat was parched and it stung each time he swallowed, a painful reminder of his thirst. Days from the river, Cael didn’t think he’d make it. He felt weak.

His head throbbed, pressure pushing against his eyes. There was a constant ringing in his ears that only seemed to further emphasize the near silence of the woods. His thoughts were mired in an agonizing quicksand, each sucked screaming into the depths before reaching full coherency.

Anger and adrenaline had spurred him onward since dawn. Each and every sound that sprung up around him was but another dose that lightened his step and sent him scurrying for cover. With no food or water to fuel his horrified flight, he had run until his joints felt on fire and his heart threatened to burst from the cage of his ribs. He had not stopped since he saw the Korme cavalry mowing down the vineyards that morning. It had taken its toll upon his flesh and his spirit.

Disjointed, he crawled and propped his back against the nearest tree trunk. His burden seemed to ooze from his shoulders as the tree bore his weight. Glad to be rid of it, he loosed a whistling sigh as waves of exhaustion washed over him. As he rested, the pain in his skull eased. Reveling in the opportunity to sit and do nothing, he stared off into the cluster of withered foliage before him. His eyelids blinked once, twice, and then stayed shut.

~

Cael’s eyes sprung wide to an ear-splitting screech. He sat upright, searching the trees for signs of movement. The shadows that had sheltered him as he made his way along the tree line had deepened, sinking into the true darkness of night. The silence that had allowed him to sleep so easily was gone, replaced by the screeches and cries of the unknown. He held his panicked breath at a rustle of branches just to his side. An instant later, he heard it again, only closer.

He crept to his feet with pained effort, nearly hissing as he realized he no longer had his father’s bag. It lay in the darkness, just feet away; somewhere. Certain of what was inside, Cael knew he could never leave it behind. What he wasn’t so sure of was exactly where he had left it. He remembered dropping it before he had fallen asleep, but with the exception of the morning’s horror, everything that happened before his eyes closed was a tangled blur in his head.

The rustle of branches seemed even closer, a low, feral growl accompanying it. With his breath held Cael inched forward, barely daring to let his feet touch the ground before taking the next step. His heart thundered as he squinted, doing his best to see in the nocturnal gloom. His eyes were slow to adjust. After several steps his foot bumped something solid that seemed to shift with the impact. Sure it was the bag he squatted and reached for it. Warm relief flooded his cheeks as his fingers closed around the clasp of his bag.

The snap of a twig beside him popped him upright. Bag in hand, Cael turned and bolted into the trees away from the noise. No longer worried about stealth, he ran as fast as he could while trying to avoid the thick tree trunks that were little more than darkened shadows.

Sharpened branches tore at his skin and caught his clothes, slowing his run. Rubbery limbs shoved from his path slapped back, leaving burning lines across his face and body.

The sounds of the night were all around him. Ominous howls filled the forest with their deep resonance, discordant shrieks erupting in the dark as though in answer. Unknown insects buzzed without fear in the branches as mysterious birds cried out way above. The sounds grew louder as he ran, more insistent.

Having expected to break free of the trees, Cael suddenly realized he was running deeper into the woods. Cold fear chilled his skin. He dug his heels in to stop but caught his foot on a half-buried root. He tumbled forward, tucking in tight and throwing his arms over his head and face. He careened forward until his shoulder struck a tree trunk. Cael cried out as he bounced away. He crashed onto his back with a grunt, his breath knocked from his lungs.

His senses still sharp, perhaps even heightened by the throbbing pain that consumed his shoulder and arm, he rolled over on the damp undercarriage of the forest and climbed back to his feet. Or at least he attempted to.

As he put his weight on his foot, a sharp agony seared through his ankle as though it had been pierced by an arrow. He bit back a scream but he could nothing to stop himself from falling. Cael crumbled to the ground, the fall jarring his shoulder.

White dots of light whirled before his eyes, tiny stars in the sky of his suffering. His hand went to his ankle and he knew then it was more than a simple sprain. The slightest touch sent lightning bolts of agony shooting up his leg. Before the pain forced his hand away, he was sure he had felt the sharp edge of a broken bone protruding against the soft leather of his boot.

Cael felt his panic rising. All around him strange noises rumbled and roared, the forest coming alive with terror. He took just a moment to scan the thick foliage, to listen, assuring himself nothing lurked nearby. The sounds of the night were close, but not right atop him.

Assured as well as he could be, Cael tried his best to blank his mind as he reached down to remove his boot. No time to be delicate, he simply latched onto the heel and yanked. The pain he’d experienced moments before was a pale mockery of what assailed him now. It was as if the sun had exploded inside his head. His vision went white, the darkness chased away in an obliterating flash. He slumped to the ground in a trembling heap, tears and frothy spittle mixing to blur his face. He lay still, not daring to move until his vision began to reassert itself, shadows rushing in to restore the dark night. At last he felt well enough to sit up.

When he could trust his hands enough to do what they must, he fumbled with the bag and pulled it open. His fingers wrapped around the metal cylinder inside. Its surface was almost too cold to touch. Ignoring the bee sting chills that stabbed at his palm, he drew the cylinder out of the bag.

The moment it was free, the archaic symbols etched along its golden length began to glow. Eerie green in the dark of night, the light flickered and cast its glimmering shadow over the area. Able to see his ankle under the gentle glow, Cael looked away fast as the image of bloodstained bone poking through his skin burned itself upon his retinas. He felt his stomach knot and tasted bile at the back of his throat.

He willed it away and clenched his teeth. Without looking, as he had seen his father do a hundred times, he reached out with the rod and set it against his leg. He sucked in a lungful of air and gently slid the cylinder down his leg, to his ankle. He resisted the urge to scream as he pressed the cold rod against the wound.

Cael ignored the pain as best he could and focused his thoughts on wholeness and renewal. He felt tears run down his cheeks as he pushed harder with the rod, willing it to work. Just as he felt he could take no more, a frigid chill numbed his wound and sent relief prickling up his arms.

Cael relaxed his grip as he felt a subtle pressure at his ankle. He stayed motionless for a few moments, a gentle vibration thrumming against his palm. Seconds later it ceased, warmth returning once more to his leg.

He glanced down at his ankle and breathed deep. Though the remnants of his blood still stained his foot and the ground beneath, his ankle was no longer swollen abnormally. He dared a touch and released his pent up breath at realizing it had truly been healed. The bone no longer protruded, the flesh sealed.

Though he had seen the relic at work, had felt its power first hand, Cael was always uneasy about using its power. He knew nothing of how it worked or why, or if it would cease to function at some point. There were just too many questions. All he knew was that it was too valuable to waste its power.