Creatrix

Prologue

She was prepared for just about anything, but this. If it were the start of what she thought it was, it would send ripples of fear across the world; Creation had taken its first victim. 

The grim scene turned her stomach; nothing like this had happened before. It sent a ringing throughout her entire body. Every cell shrieked in shock. Dolhran was dead. Hung by his feet from the grieving bough of an oak, his matted dreads roused the dust to a gentle wisp, chalk blanching the tips of his sticky mane. His cold armour, torn and bloodied, half hung on his limbs and dragged in the dirt. Cut to the bone, his fear twisted face had been cleaved from brow to jaw; a gruesome death. She clutched her stomach, staggered, and called out strong and clear on the wind. 

‘We need to get a band together, and quick; something strange is going on here and I really don’t like it.' She ignored all the questions her friends fired back at her and continued, 'Meet me at the Shoumi trading post as soon as you can. Get everyone together; I won’t be far from there,  and bring some spades.’ Ashen faced, she took another glance at the broken warrior, and then left the clearing.

At the trading post, Kali was met by a party of adventurers. She told them to prepare for a shock; Dolhran was dead, and it didn’t look like he got game over. They thought she was making a drama out of things again, but quests with Kali were often great fun, so she led them to the woods, on to another adventure. 

She was the perfect scout;silently stalking in the shade of the canopy, sleek in her black dragon armour. Picking through the twisted root and thorn, her breath was soft and silent, her senses, sharp and aware, and the others were confident with her. She wished she had the same confidence in herself. 

Tyr should have been here, but there was no sign of him.  His absence was noted, but no one would ask her where he was; her tight lips and the hard determination in her eyes, told them this was no time for questions. 

Scouting ahead of the party, Kali stopped where the trees thinned out and  the wood was peppered with bluebells; milky motes of light leeched through the branches and dappled the shade. She scanned the scene, determined it was clear, and then stepped forward into the sunshine. 

Tern and the Friar had been sharing a joke and their laughter sang out ahead of them, shattering the silence and crashing through the undergrowth of the golden afternoon. They followed into the clearing and the humour sharply left. They stopped dead. Several of them cried out their anguish, some collapsed to the ground, others merely stood there. Shocked. Colour drained from all of their faces, and for a moment, everything lost its shine. This kind of destruction was unheard of. The men and women shuddered; repulsed. 

Kali drew an anxious breath, sprang forward, and leapt into the tree. Swinging her body round to land neatly on the creaking limb, she found her balance. The leather belt that hung the body bore down onto the branch, strained tight, cutting through the bark and  exposing the white wood beneath. She took out her dagger and cut through the biting strap; it ripped, eased the pressure, and the corpse crashed to the earth. Dolhran’s friends took up their tools and respectfully buried their friend.