In Times of War: A Tale of Ardalencor
Prologue
Eight grim faces looked at one another, perhaps for the last time. A day passed since the stone walls of the Burzina Monastery, an outpost of the Faith of Indalos, had been breached. This group of steadfast defenders, recently much larger in number, retreated to one of the few buildings which initially escaped the bombardment of siege engines. An incessant chipping of chisels and hammers continued throughout the night but took on a renewed frenzy at daybreak. Concussive sounds rippled through the building’s exterior walls.
The country of Ardalencor was at war and again the victim of foreign invasion. Less than a month before, the invading armies of Tavuron crossed the border and encountered only paltry resistance before besieging the monastery. The crown army of Ardalencor had yet to arrive, and hope of temporal deliverance amongst the Burzina defenders rapidly faded.
This group of survivors fortified themselves in a pair of rooms at the end of a scorched and rubble-strewn corridor. Piled stone, splintered furniture, and tangled webs of flesh and steel: bodies twisted together with wide stares marking the delivery of death blows, formed the last line of defense. After midnight probing attacks were foiled, the defenders gained a brief reprieve, but the air swelled with rank stench, and a red-black slime spread and congealed on the mosaic floors.
Above the din of quickened chisel work, the hallways reverberated anew with the torturous screams of captured defenders and then gentle offers of safe passage if the remaining defenders surrendered.
“Why do they keep coming?” screamed a young woman as she covered her ears to block out the mad swirl of sounds.
“They are searching for the relics and sacred tomes. The Tavuros want to consume their power,” replied a thin, elderly voice.
“And they’re butchers. Their blood is up. Hundreds of their dead lie across our holy grounds. They’ll chop us up and strew the pieces around the fields,” said a male voice with jaunty despondence.
With that morose remark, roof beams shifted, and another ray of light stretched into the bleak room to reveal slate fragments splashing to the floor.
“Shut your mouth!”
The sudden crash of heavy slate set teeth chattering to signal another shift between resolute tranquility and despair. Means of momentary escape found several forms: whispering prayers, scratching limbs raw, or ripping hair.
“Forgive me,” beseeched the elder monk. All eyes searched for him in the shadows of the corner. He was old but looked to have aged another ten years since the retreat to this final holdout. He struggled, moment upon moment, to maintain a protective field which kept several crossbeams in place and prevented the entire roof from collapsing.
“I can help you,” offered another voice from across the room.
“No, it’s all right. Save your strength. I have maintained and protected these walls nearly all my life. In full view of my ancestors, I will honor my vows to Indalos.”
A familiar voice pleaded for the remaining defenders to surrender.
The elder monk exhaled deeply. “That is not the voice of our blessed sister. Her soul is already free and on its way to the Starry Fields.”
The outside wall shook as stone flecks and dust pulsed from multiple points. The strides of armored men and shields scraping along the walls were heard approaching down the corridor. The defenders nearest the barricade threw stones as the footfalls quickened, and a war cry was raised.
A portion of the once three-foot-thick exterior wall was punched through with an iron chisel. Hurriedly two glass phials were pushed into the room followed by a spear shaft. A defender lunged but was unable to catch the phials, and they shattered on impact.
“Sulfur!”
Another defender quickly conjured a gust of wind, and the suffocating vapor was deftly directed out through the crevice from which it came. Coughing and sputtering was heard on the other side, and the spear retreated.
The elder monk tenderly put his hand on a nearby cheek to still a quivering lip. He addressed the group. “Let fear pass from your heart. Give the Tavuros no satisfaction. You have the blessing of life. Do not let it pass cheaply from you. Duty is yet before us.”