Iron of the Innocent: The Dark Judge (Vol 1)

Chapter 2: The Fallen Soldier

274 I.C.
Sacren
Solorn Kingdom
Eastland Province

The present...

Silence filled the forest like a heavy, slow moving river. The cause was a battlefield. The birds and animals fled in terror from the clashing of steel, the cries of war, and the anguish of the dying. Small fires crackled with delight, set free to devour. Smoke drifted and curled around the massive trees, its fingers unhurried by the stagnant air.

The blood that covered the grassy ground pooled and began to dry. While the flowing rivulets all but ceased their movement, the creek winding its way through the trees was clouded with crimson. Small minnows swam the bank nibbling on what they could find to eat. The food was half submerged, lifeless corpses, valiant defenders and aggressive raiders alike.

Among the dead, a man stood quietly, his eyes moving over the tragic scene with sadness. The senseless death grieved his heart. A dark brown cloak hung from his shoulders and wrapped around his form. The cowl of his garment was pulled low over his features. Shadow did not find its place as the man's face was illuminated with a very dim, white light. The source was beneath his flesh. His arteries and veins pulsed slowly with each powerful beat of his heart, and that which was normally dark lines under skin shown with a brilliance. The man's facial hair and long locks were white with a purity to it that almost glowed.

Though his cloak was wrapped around him, an onlooker could see glimpses of his robes beneath. The cloth was a pure white, and the robes gleamed from the same soft illumination emanating from the man. Not like a cloth covering a light, but as if the robes were made from the fabric of light itself. Yet, the softness of the glow was gentle and not harsh.

The forest was quiet with emptiness, and the man was not there. Then he was. His instantaneous arrival made no sound or caused any change in his surroundings. He stood quietly for a few long minutes then moved toward the creek. His bare feet touched the green grass beneath them, but he left the grass undisturbed. He passed over dirt and blood, but they did not touch or mar the soles of his feet. He moved with purpose.

The bank of the creek was not wide, and some of the warriors who fought and fell from the higher ground above, landed in the shallow gully carved by the creek. Tiny, little rocks of various color covered the soft dirt of the creek's edges. Most of the pebbles were shades of brown and tan, but a number were shades of white as well.

The old, great trees of Harting Forest cast their shadows over the slow moving water, their thick limbs held high. Through the leaves above blue sky could be seen, but the colors of the coming twilight began to spread themselves through the heavens. Soon the distant stars would appear, and the moons would reflect the light of the sun down to the inhabitants of Sacren.

The man in the brown cloak moved to a place where a gentle slope led down to the creek. He paused for a moment, his eyes moving over the scene before him. His nostrils flared slightly as he took a breath of the putrid air, foul odors welling up around him from the battle. The smell of death was heavy in the area. The man had glowing irises of blue with brilliant, white luminescent pupils.

Moving down the bank, the man approached the water. The bodies that were blocking his path moved across the gravel to each side, allowing him an unfettered path to the water's edge. They moved when an unseen force touched them like the shadows as they parted before him. There at the creek's boundary his eyes came to rest on that which he sought.

As the bodies in dark armor parted and came to rest, the man let his cloak open that he had been holding closed. Immediately, the encroaching shadows fled further away. The light shining from him reflected off parts of plate armor that had once been polished to a high sheen. Now the armor was mostly dulled with the clash of war, mud, blood, dents, and in some places torn asunder by the weapons of battle.