The Lost Kingdom: The Stone of Destiny

3

Calador stared at the darkness. I straightened up, my heart beating fast, but I couldn't see anything beyond half-collapsed walls. The absence of movement was eery when Eären started moving nervously. The wind blew so strongly it smothered any sound that could have reached us, the snow was so violent that it was impossible to see beyond a few metres. We were surrounded by darkness and ice.

Calador took a few steps to murmur reassuring words to his mare who calmed down. He kept observing the darkness as I put the letter back in my pocket, to hold my bow in my hands. As silent as possible, despite my shaking caused by cold and fear, I pulled an arrow from its quiver, ready to draw the bowstring.

Finally, after long, long seconds of waiting, Calador turned to me. At that moment, a silhouette surged from behind the closest wall, sword lifted. Smothering a cry, I pulled and shot the arrow that hit the orc. He collapsed with a scream of pain. Calador unsheathed his sword just as dozen orcs came out of the ruins. Their dark skins and outfits, merging into the landscape, had helped keeping them out of sight. They yelled and growled, furious that one of their own had been shot. They had unsheathed their weapons and approached closely enough that I could detail them.

I took a step back. My heart climbed in my throat in disgust. Those were the enemies of peace, the creatures that had destroyed my village and my family? They were huge, bodies built with hard muscles. If the lightness of their outfits were any indication, they didn't feel the cold. Some carried some sort of armours or leather reinforcements, but I had no doubt that even without any defence, their skins were thick enough to be used as protection. Their swords were large, deformed, the absolute opposite of the long and elegant elven weapons.

The wind hissed furiously, as if to encourage the battle. It turned against us, snowflakes blowing in our faces, and the repugnant smell of the orcs hit me.

Black arrows flew above us. Calador's sword lashed through the air too quickly for me to see. He cut the arrows and the rests of the projectiles fell around us.

"Climb on Eären!" he ordered.

Two orcs jumped on him but, powerful and agile, he took them down in an instant. I climbed on Eären, shooting an arrow at the closest orc who collapsed. For a short moment, the realisation that I had just taken a life, even one of such a hideous being, made me sick. Another orc grabbed my leg and tried to make me fall off the mare. Eären neighed and reared furiously. I held onto the reins tightly. Calador sliced the orc's arm then its head flew. I turned away to not see.

"Open the way!"

I sent a glance at Calador who kept defending us, taking down every orc that arrived, but they were more and more numerous, and others hid on the heights. Arrows flew towards us. I screamed to warn my mantë but the wind blew the projectiles away.

Eären neighed and hit the ground with her hooves to leave as soon as possible, but she impatiently waited for her rider.

Calador's words, a moment ago, finally made me react and I drew an arrow. Right ahead of me, coming through the only passage we could take to leave before being overwhelmed, two orcs arrived running. My hand shook but I let my arrows fly and hit them, one after another, despite the wind. They fell and Calador jumped behind me.

"Eären, yaike!" he screamed.

With a relieved neigh, she took off. I held onto her as tightly as my weapon. Calador managed to keep his balance, while hitting with his long sword any enemy that approached us.

The mare took the path that went down naturally. The orcs were still there, surging from the shadows, the houses, screaming and hissing. Their sinister growls resonated in all Cilyn.