Dark Fall (3rd Book)

Chapter 2: Father Against Son

"What's that over yonder?" Bjorn asked, squinting his eyes as a large form descended from the skies, miles away.

He looked around, directing his torch wherever he can, seeing the petrified looks of mothers and fathers, children and adult, old and young. Bodies lined up around them, both human and inhuman. Their walls looked weak and easily destroyed, and a brief thought flitted by, telling ominous words he did not want to hear.

Trees covered their large camp, but as it is, only wooden stakes and wooden walls were what separated them against the destructive forces running amok in this land, and their numbers have already dwindled to less than a few ten thousands in one week alone.

He still wondered what exactly happened at Shardizar.

My mother, my father, bless their souls, and may they achieve the peace they so deserve.

Ironic that all dead souls are destined to be bound to Merec, and rare was it that a soul was chosen by the gods.

"Over there!" He pointed, where numerous humans and elves already looked about, confused and scared faces painting their expressions as the dragon circled around the fields and trees, but always strayed too far from their position.

"Stop making us paranoid, Bjorn!" A teen told him, glimmering green eyes holding back tears as he knelt over a burnt corpse, watching as it was covered with cloth, hiding the exterior that was burnt to an almost complete black. "We've dealt with enough in just one night!"

"Archers, line up and ready your arrows!"

Bjorn turned and looked to a aged man with withered and white hair. A simple brown leather armor was all he wore, as well as leather boots an gauntlets, but he knew all too well what this man was before this whole mess. The blade of red, as the people have taken to calling it, was strapped to his back, as well as another sword of their own crude make, ugly but efficient and hard.

"Maybe it's an ally!" A woman suggested, herself wielding a small knife. Bjorn thought it wouldn't do any good against this one.

It's too big for a knife to even nick the skin.

"We've learnt enough of that, Maria," This man said, and Bjorn narrowed his eyes as he took out both blades, a readied stance. A girl with golden hair suddenly stood beside him, clutching a bow herself, but Bjorn saw the intricate elven leaves and vines. "It's a dragon."

"So it is an ally!" Now, an elf called out, walking to their side with the same bow as the blonde woman. "A dragon is a friend amidst this chaos, old man."

"I'm not too sure about that," Bjorn remarked, looking out over the horizon, where a fast moving object darted across the plains, and it was as if the dragon followed it. Relaying his thoughts to them, they watched their narrowed eyes, the paranoia and slight fear seeping out, palpable through this insane darkness. "No human, no elf, and certainly no dwarf can traverse the breadth of these trees that fast, and our position is already so vulnerable."

"I'd watch your tongue, human," An elf warned. "Insulting either race has punishing repurcussions."

Muttering a short apology, he slowly took out a mace, rusty and worn down, but still powerful enough to crush heads.

But is it able to crush this one? He thought to himself, and tried in vain to convince himself that it would.

He himself held a torch, and it at least illuminated their surroundings to a light degree, but he can't take his eyes off that dark object.

"Oh, no."

"What is it, F..."

Bjorn's suspicion of this old man only intensified when he shushed the blonde woman, and turned his gaze back to this man leagues away, traversing half the landscape in just over a minute.