Glyph

Chapter 14

Dirk paused his swordplay for a second. He thought he had heard something, other than the chop of his sword against the target figure and the swish of it in the air. He shrugged. Must've been the wind, or imagined.

As he looked out at the valley below him, he shivered.

The training grounds were situated above Redvale, so he could see the whole of the city. However the altitude didn't help the winter chill that was coming. 

Now tired and his anger spent, he wondered if perhaps he had been too hard on Cordan.

He is your best friend in the squad, a voice whispered in his head.

But he just sat there and did nothing, those are the actions of the coward.

Maybe he didn't feel like taking the risk of such a beating.

He's my best friend in the squad!

Dirk shook his head to clear it and sighed. There was nothing he could do about it now, except apologize when he next saw him. Overall, it didn't matter who was at fault. He valued Cordan's friendship as his only companion in the squad.

Sheathing his sword, he sauntered over to the water barrel and took a ladleful of the cool liquid, wincing as the it trickled his way down his throat.

He glanced at the sun's position, realizing he would have to go to camp soon. The squad would just march back up to the training grounds, of course, but he had to be present for roll call.

Sheathing his sword, he made his way down the dirt path that led back to the main camp. When he arrived, he found it deserted.

Must've gone off somewhere for officer's choice.

He trudged to his tent, and moved the flap. A scene of utter disarray greeted his eyes. Blankets had been thrown around, and personal articles were strewn about the room.

He searched through the mess and found his own items. Gathering them into a pile, he set them aside in a corner.

Now he was free to investigate the mystery. As he left the tent to search for his squad and the reason for the mess, it was solved for him.

A long, brassy, echoing note sang out.

An icy claw gripped Dirk's heart. That horn was the call to battle. That must've been the sound he had heard while training.

It was originating from the south of the city. 

Dirk hurriedly rushed out of camp and started running there.

As he passed the many houses of Redvale, he saw all the shutters and doors locked. Not a single sound echoed in the broad stone streets.

It was a little unnerving to be surrounded by silence, but Dirk pressed on and as he drew closer to the southern gate, the silence was replaced by the sound of battle.

Dirk had never heard this before and they were alarming, to say the least. Screams of the dying mingled with hoarse battle cries. The music of clashing metal could be heard above the neighs of horses and commanding shouts of officers. 

As he approached the gate leading from the city, his way was barred by guardsmen in front of the locked gate.

"None shall pass until the battle is over," one said with a hard look in his eyes.

Dirk straightened and tried to calm his breathing. It was time to pull rank. "I am a corporal of the North Brigade," he said, pointing to his insignia. "I demand entry."