Soul Fire

Soul Fire - Chapter 32

The hamlets of Erynya were considered too insignificant to deserve names. With everything they needed grown and raised on their doorstep, there was never a need to travel far. Cretia - barely visible on the southern horizon - marked the limit of most journeys. The cottages were a curious collection with most built from pine logs lashed together with wiry grasses, reeds, and vines. No two were alike.

A few of the houses had been built with far greater quality, using the fallen limbs of trees from the Elven forest. Scholars said that time did not touch the wood of Elven trees, the branches a gift, one that would never rot nor become brittle. Untreated, this wood had provided shelter for hundreds of years, still tinged with the green of life, lending ageless strength and tireless vigor to the walls of the houses. In these dwellings the land owners lived - a measure of their station and importance to the people who tilled the land for them.

The communities worked in cooperation, never paying tithes to their figurehead lords. Instead, everything they shared for the betterment of all, the prices of their goods charitable and appreciated by all who purchased them. They considered feeding men of other lands their duty and honor, with the bounty of their fields a god-given reward for their benevolence. In return, they were owed much.

Asillia would never let them fall.

The sight of Asillians riding along the roads and mud-lined pathways aroused much excitement. Mostly this came from boys and teenagers armed with their stick swords and straw armor. They dreamed of adventure or becoming notable warriors, unaware that their wildest fancies were both unexpectedly and horrifically closer than they realized. By the time the first large hamlet had been reached, a dozen boys ran in their wake, vying for attention, raising a chuckle from the increasingly good-natured Malithas. It was not so long ago that Dathion, Jerodai, and Ellishan had enjoyed the same carefree games of the children around them. Indeed, they still would if given another chance.

The Erynyans welcomed the arrival of the Asillians, many seeking to share their stories of sadness and loss. Many tales were recounted with uncertainty but all originated from the invasion in the northeast. For two days, farms had been sacked, fields salted, and huts burned. The progress of their enemy proved slow, as Erynyan settlements were sparse. However, the victories of their enemies over these small villages came swiftly.

Erynya had no army.

Pitchforks and woodsman axes faced swords and dark powers. Farmers and laborers fought trained warriors and creatures of terror. Although the men of Erynya were ill-prepared, their courage slowed their enemy's advance.

But the progress of their foes proved inexorable.

The head of the hamlet came to meet them, his station assumed due to ownership of the farms surrounding the houses. The reputation of the Asillians had preceded them. Malithas had no time for diplomacy, especially when his words would be lost on people who forsook politics for simple interests.

Malithas spoke as soon as the headman appeared.

"We come because Erynya is at war."

"Are you certain?"

The man's voice shook. He asked a question to which all knew the answer. Malithas replied with a simple nod.

"And the princes of Asillia? This is a great honor!"

He directed a bow to the two boys. Dathion waved the man upright.

"Who is able to join us? Who will you offer from your hamlet and surrounding farms? Who is willing to shed blood on Erynyan fields so that life can still spring from its soil? I, Maltihas of Asillia, will teach them."