Tim Marquitz - Dawn of War

He looked to Malya, unable to read her feelings upon the stoic mask she wore. He cleared his throat, reasserting his purpose. “Even if I were to give myself to the Grol, they would not leave Lathah standing.” He gestured to the bag of collected relics that hung at the waist of one of the Pathra emissaries. “With the help of the ancient tools, I intend to take the fight to the beasts. You must gather your family and flee. The Pathra will protect you.”

Malya glanced at Olenn, who remained where he had fallen, then over at Kirah. The Pathra nodded. Malya turned her cool gaze back to Arrin. “If I am to flee, it will be all of my people.”

“Then make arrangements. The Grol will not stay true to their peace for long. I will hold them for as long as I can.”

“You will not hold them at all, warrior,” Zalee told him as she came alongside. She motioned to the fallen guard. “For all your skill, you would be little more than a flea upon the back of the Grol army.”

“I have spent fifteen years in possession of the collar at my throat and have learned far more than the beasts could have in a hundred years, let alone the short time they’ve wielded the relics.”

Zalee nodded. “I do not doubt your word, but the O’hra you hold was never intended as a weapon. However, most of those stolen by the Grol were crafted for the sole purpose of warfare and made for Sha’ree use, making their function far more dangerous in spite of your experience.” Her voice grew softer. “I would beg you reconsider. My people would train you to use the O’hra far more effectively, along with others, so that you might truly make a difference rather than casting your life away in a glorious failure.”

“What would your offer do for my homeland, for the people here and now who face extinction by the Grol?”

The Sha’ree lowered her eyes. “It would do little.”

“And that is why I must refuse.” Arrin turned to face Olenn, who had crawled to his feet and now stood with his eyes focused on the horizon.

Arrin followed the prince’s stare, his stomach tightening. There against the backdrop of the darkening sky burned another of the Grol’s magical spheres of fire, streaking red toward Lathah. As it crashed into the city, exploding in the Fourth, Arrin knew the time had come.

He turned to Malya. “The moment is upon us. Have your people flee.” He took her hand in his and pressed his lips to it. He held it a fleeting instant, before letting her slip away. “I go to face the Grol.”

Sultae looked out across the bleak, black land of Hespayr and marveled at how anyone could call its barren soil home. Jagged hillocks appeared to tumble down from the mountainous Stone Hills that resided to the north. Their gathered sharpness lessened as they ran further south. The land below the hills ran flat all the way until it reached the western border of Ah Uto Ree, where the land once more came alive.

Though she had seen the whole of Ahreele in her time, the desolate nature of Hespayr had always intrigued her. Made of the flesh of Ree, as was the whole of the world, there seemed a symmetry missing in the fallow country, which appeared across the breadth of the other lands. It was as if Hespayr were a cancer upon the goddess, eating away at her.

Sultae walked steady across the dark sand, toward the base of the hills. As she grew nearer, the shapes of cavernous openings began to resolve against the backdrop of the even darker earth. As if they sensed her presence, she spotted a number of Hespayrins emerging from the caves to meet her. She smiled behind her veil, certain they could have divined her approach, she being the only living being that dared tread upon the blighted land.

She waved in greeting as she came upon the gathering Hespayrins, their shapes easily defined even in the growing night. As if in defiance of the land’s utter blackness, the people of Hespayr were like spirits, the color of their skin so faded as to glisten in its whiteness. Their homes deep beneath the surface, within the very body of the Goddess Ree herself, they had come to shun the light of day.

The milky pink of their eyes looked upon her as she came to stand before them. Sultae gave a shallow bow to the stocky people that crowded about her.

Their world made of stone, the Hespayrins were easily as strong as the realm in which they dwelled. Stood alongside the Yvir, the people of Hespayr would make the warrior race seem little more than twigs. While of average height, most meeting Sultae eye-to-eye, they were great walls of muscle, many easily as wide as they were tall. Even the women of the race were layered in hardened slabs that rippled with power, so much so as to blur the determination between the genders under anything less than intensive scrutiny. The thick leather of their tunics that hung stiff made it even more difficult. Their graveled voices, roughened by a lifetime inhaling the dust and soot of the mines, only added to the confusion.

Sultae drew back her veil and smiled at the hulking woman that stood slightly out from the rest of the people, the reddish worm of scar below her left cheek making her easy to recognize. Though the Hespayrins had no true singular leader, their nature communal, the scarred woman had proven to be influential.

“Greetings, Forger Illraine.”

The woman bowed shallow, her bulk allowing her to descend no further. “Welcome back, Sultae. We are pleased to see you have returned whole and hale.” Her voice grated in Sultae’s ears like two stones rubbed together, despite the graciousness of its message.

“I too am pleased to be among you once again.” Sultae spread her smile to the rest of the Hespayrins that lurked about, each beaming as she met their eyes. Simple courtesy was a treat they reveled in, so few visitors daring to enter their realm.

Illraine motioned for Sultae to follow, waving her pale hand to clear the others from her path. “Do come inside. We have done as you have asked and our preparations are complete. You would see?”

Sultae nodded and followed the woman into the mouth of the cave. To appease the Hespayrins’ pride, she strolled past the warriors set to guard the opening without even glancing in their direction. Their naked skin was blackened by layer upon layer of thick soot so they might blend into the darkness. Once she was past, she let a tiny smile slip, its shine hidden from view behind her hand.

While their disguise might surprise an unsuspecting invader with lesser vision than her own, Sultae was certain it would be the desolate plains that sprawled out before the caverns that would repel a force far swifter than naked men colored in ashen dust.

Her mood lightened by her thoughts, Sultae followed the Forger through the catacomb of tunnels that ran like lines of a spider’s web within the murky depths of the hills. She could feel the downward slope of the earth as they walked, the essence of Ree fluttering delicate against her skin, growing more distinct as they delved deeper. Her quest aside, Sultae’s visits to Hespayr were a joyous occasion for it brought her ever closer to her goddess.

Forger Illraine seemed to understand Sultae’s silence as they made their way downward, saying nothing as she led her through the darkness with a grace that defied her bulk. The mass of Hespayrins having scattered behind them, disappearing about their own business, there was nothing to distract Sultae from her thoughts but the quiet scuff of Illraine’s feet against the stone floor.

For what seemed like miles they traveled, until at last Illraine turned down a wide corridor where a distant light illuminated the far darkness in dancing flickers. The light grew brighter as they closed upon it, the woman gesturing for Sultae to enter a cavernous entrance at the end of the long tunnel. The glimmer turned into a steady glow.