Tim Marquitz - Dawn of War

She glanced at the hand that wielded the blade and saw the sun-tortured skin beginning to heal, the raised blisters draining and sinking back into the flesh, the reddened skin paling to its normal shade. She felt the bloody cracks at her lips knitting together and ran her tongue over them, the skin soft and supple after but a few minutes.

The hunger and thirst in her belly had calmed and she felt oddly sated despite how long it had been since she had last consumed either food or drink. Though she knew not the why of it, Braelyn celebrated the feeling, only then realizing how close she’d come to death before she’d picked up the blade.

She felt renewed and clutched tighter to the strange sword, fearful of letting it go lest the wonder of its touch fade with its release. The murderous desert surrounding her, this was not the place for weakness.

Her body regenerated and her spirit drifting amongst the clouds, she explored the great halls of the dead. The touch of a single sword restoring her flesh and drive, she wondered what other wonders she might find within its hallowed chambers.

An alien world awaited her outside and Braelyn was determined she would not face it unprepared.

Hard on the heels of Zalee, the clustered Pathran emissaries all about, Cael felt lost. They had caught up to the watch commander and the princess and had run to her home to find her family. The boys’ eyes were as wide as the moon as they were led outside, their voices raised in excited chatter. Cael could see the wonder on their faces. Oblivious to the worry that weighed heavy upon their mother, it was as if they’d started off on a grand adventure.

Cael understood how they felt, but he’d seen too much to share in their excitement. With the howls and cries of the Grol reverberating through the city, he wanted only to be gone. He moved closer to the princess’ children, forcing a smile for their sake.

With an angry shout that rivaled the beasts, the princess tore her arm free from the commander’s hold. “I know what’s expected of me, commander.” She called her husband and children to her. “I can find my way to the tunnels without your lead.”

Maltis bowed as the princess spun on her heels and ushered her family before her, men of the guard carrying her senseless father carefully in their arms. Despite her anger, the commander stayed close, Barold right beside her, as well. Zalee kept a measure of distance, her pink eyes in constant motion. Her head swiveled to look everywhere. The Pathra surrounded the party at the rear, their weapons at the ready.

The insistent Grol noises spurred the group on and they moved quickly, the princess leading them back to the courtyard they had only recently left. It was empty save for the corpses of those killed by the Lathahn warrior. The princess chastised her children’s as they gawked and steered them into the Great Hall, her husband at her side, a short blade ready in his hand. The men who carried her father came close behind.

Cael couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the hall as they hurried through it, slipping through a curtained alcove that sat hidden behind a great tapestry on the wall behind the throne. After moving through a short corridor that split three ways at its end, the princess led them to the right, into a long hall. After twenty paces, she stopped suddenly.

“Give me your sword, Falen,” she said to her husband.

He did so, passing it over by the hilt. The princess grasped it in both hands and slid the point into a slot in the ceiling, Cael had not noticed. She pressed it upward until there was a quiet click. Falen set his hand upon the wall to her left and pushed. A portion of the wall swung open without a sound revealing a dark corridor beyond. She withdrew the blade and passed it back to her husband.

Falen went in first, calling out from the darkness a moment later for them to follow. The sergeant went in after, pulling a torch from the sconce set just inside. The princess ushered her sons inside and waved for the rest to follow. At Zalee’s urging, Cael went in before her and made room for the rest.

The corridor dark, he could see little of its design. Behind him, the party fully inside, the princess closed the hidden door. It shut without sound. A sudden flash of light blinded him for a moment as the sergeant lighted the torch, its flickering brightness chasing the darkness away. His vision cleared and he saw they stood within a narrow hallway hewn from natural stone. It ran straight into the darkness beyond the orb’s reach.

The sergeant ahead, the party moved down the hall for what seemed an eternity, coming to stop at a metal gate that sat closed before a steel door. The sergeant grasped the bars of the gate, each as thick as Cael’s arm, and growled. He reached through the bars to strike the door with his fist, only the muffled slap of meat sounding out.

“The prince has sealed the tunnels,” Barold said as he spun about. His eyes seemed to glow against his dark face. There was worry in its lines.

“That bastard,” Falen said, turning to face his wife. “He would abandon his own family?” he asked, as though he thought even the prince above such callousness.

The princess bowed her head and Cael swore he could see tears welling in her eyes. Her husband pulled her close as Barold and Maltis stared at each other, saying nothing.

Zalee slipped past to the gate and set her hand upon it, and then the door in turn. She shook her head. “There is no way past. Is there another route to these tunnels of yours?”

Maltis shook his head. “None that would lead us beyond the walls.”

A growl bubbled low in her throat. “Then we must return the way we came and pray we have not lost our opportunity.”

Without waiting, she stormed off down the corridor. Cael ran to keep up, the shuffle of hurried feet at his back. Zalee led them back to the secret door and through the Great Hall, back out once more into the courtyard. Only there did she stop, raising a hand. The sounds of battle rang in their ears.

Cael could see no fighting, the cluster of tall homes and buildings leaving only the view of the cobblestone streets unimpeded, but he knew it was fierce. Zalee urged them on, winding her way back toward the gate they had come through earlier. The clash of steel and groans of the dying grew louder as they traveled on. He wondered why Zalee had chosen this route, knowing full well the Grol would likely have reached the level by then. The answer was there before him just a moment later.

Just beyond the open gate that led to the level below was the battle he had heard. Grol bodies littered the streets in lifeless piles. The cobblestones beneath them ran red, rivers of blood filling the cracks between the stones. Little more than a blur of movement above the carpet of dead, the Lathahn weaved his way amidst the clustered Grol, beasts dropping in crumpled heaps in his furious wake. The Pathran warrior at his side, she too waded through the invaders with graceful motions, leaving no Grol alive behind her. Neither fighter seemed to see anything but the enemy that stood in their path.

Though they kept their peace, Cael could see the pride on the faces of the Pathran emissaries. Sharpened smiles stretched their mouths. The princess reached out and pulled her children behind her by their collars, both having crowded in front of her as though to shield her from the battle. Falen took their place, but the princess’ eyes never left the fight before her. Cael could not read her thoughts as he could the Pathra’s, her expression guarded.

At his side, Zalee looked about a moment, seeming to come to a decision. She drew close to Maltis, pointing to the wall that loomed just behind the battle. “Keep the party together and make your way to the wall.”