Valor and Violence

Calris strolled through the long grass meadows outside his home village of Ironwood, running his hands through the soft, hairlike growths atop the stalks. A short distance away, some of the village women moved slowly through the field, harvesting flowers with short-handled scythes.

He and Ban had played in the fields often as children, and the landscape appeared to him now as it did then. The sky was a clear, pristine blue, unmarred by a single cloud. Vibrant green blades of soft grass carpeted the rolling hills, interspersed with clumps of shrubs sprouting brilliant purple flowers. Not only were the flowers beautiful to look at, but they were effective painkillers when brewed with tea. The locals considered the plant a gift from the gods, alleviating the widespread back and knee pains among the local farmers. Calris kneeled and inhaled the flower’s deliciously sweet, crisp scent as a gentle breeze sent the meadow into a hypnotic ripple.

The wilderness around Ironwood never changed, but he enjoyed visiting it in his dreams. Even before he left, the colours had become less sharp, the scents and natural beauty becoming dull, the clear eyes of an adult somehow losing sight of the beauty beheld by a child. It was now only here, in his mind, that he saw it as he used to. Getting older was a bitch.

With a sigh, he straightened up and looked around, the weight of his past tugging on the corners of his mouth. He had come here before more times than he could count, and he knew his idyllic reverie was about to take a turn. No matter what he did, no matter how he tried, this dream always ended the same way. As if on cue, a piercing scream shot out from the creek hidden among the trees at the meadow’s edge. The scream sounded like it came from a child, probably no more than thirteen or fourteen.

The villagers froze, alarmed. All except one, a young woman with golden hair who dropped her basket and sprinted towards the sound as the child’s cry was joined by the shouts of grown men. Calris started running as well, not for the din in the tree line, but for the woman making for it.

He already knew what was happening. After all, he was the one screaming.

He remembered the slavering monstrosity that had burst through the vegetation as he and Ban had played Sheriffs and Brigands. He remembered the two woodsmen arriving first, throwing themselves at the beast to try to allow the children to escape. He remembered the sights and sounds as they were torn apart. Gritting his teeth, Calris willed his legs to move faster. He had to reach the woman; had to stop her, had to save her!

But the more he struggled, the slower he moved, as though wading through waist deep water. The ground became sucking mud, catching his feet, dragging him down. He stumbled and fell, and the ooze drew him in, burning like acid where it touched his skin, his body suddenly as heavy as if he were made of stone.

He called to the woman, desperate and panicking, though he knew she couldn’t hear him. Tears filled his eyes and clouded his vision as he saw her disappear into the trees. The mud was up to his neck now, pulling him under and he screamed to the heavens, a demonic shriek born of soul-crushing fear, despair and powerlessness as the earth exploded upwards and Calris sat bolt upright in his sleeping roll, drenched in sweat, his body still burning even though he was now awake. Blinking slowly, he looked around, trying to gain his bearings.

Glass. Light. Salt in the air. Near the ocean? Fire coursed through his veins, making it hard to concentrate, but through the haze, he saw two marines lying beside him, both severely injured. The sight brought his memory flooding back. The battle, the dark mage’s attack, and the desperate fight with the strange woman. He touched his hand to his chest, expecting to find an open wound, but instead found firm, smooth skin. The wound had completely healed over, though he now sported shiny scar tissue where it had been.

How long have I been out? And why do I feel like I have acid in my veins?

He clambered to his feet and was deciding which way to start walking when he heard another shout. He froze, wondering if maybe he was still asleep, before more shouts and a gout of flame streaking through the sky put paid to that notion.

“Shit.”

Snatching his sword and javelin from the ground beside him, he took off towards the sound of battle. Adrenaline was always the best painkiller.