The Fires of Cerran

Chapter Eleven

As she kept to the edge of the forest, Melran began to notice the stillness of the world aroud her. She stopped for a moment, resting against the uprooted trunk of an oak tree, and simply listened to the sounds around her. The night air was cool, but the fierce winds that had battered her just a few hours earlier had now vanished, and the air was pure and untainted by the thick smog of the dragonfire. She had been running East now for two or three hours, though her progress was unknown due to her ignorance of the geography about her. Still, the distant chirping of crickets seemed to calm her as she fell against the trunk and caught her breathe. She had not seen another soul since leaving the stronghold, and she had avoided the main road that led back down towards Cerran for fear of being dragged into the woods by a creature or the stragglers that had bound into the dense foliage. She looked around her, she could here running water and so guessed that she was close to the banks of a river. She hoped that by following this, that perhaps she would find herself another village to hold up in whilst she ventured towards one of the Southern port towns, from there she had planned to stow away on a vessel and head East to Cyronos. She had heard many good things about that place. She remembered hearing tales that the sun shone across the waters so brightly that the water had turned crystal clear, so that you could see right down to the sandy bottom without so much as having to squint. As she sat against the trunk, Melran became aware of voices calling out in the darkness. Her ears picked up, she crouched low and peaked out into the  forest. The voices were coming closer, along with the distant sounds of horses and carts. She looked around her, catching a glimpse of torchlight from across the banks of the river to her right. She looked ahead, following the sounds of the voices as they came nearer to her. After a few moments, she crept quietly closer, and noticed that the voices were coming from a troop of men who wore the same armour as that of the stronghold men. Only these men were carrying torches, not swords, and behind them was several horses with several carts. The silhouetted figures of men, women and children danced in the torchlight. Melran knew that these were survivors, and that these were likely the men from the High Lord of Sera, Lord Tharandal. She kept close to the forest edge, where she was covered by the steep incline of the bank that led up to the pathway where the men now stood. She moved closer, trying to hear the conversation.
'...The King... Survivors... Black Archers most likely.' Were the words she caught. She shuddered at the very mention of the King. And at that moment, as she focused on the men above her, she felt a soft cold hand wrap around her mouth and pull her towards the darkness.
'Scream, and I will twist your neck like a cork in wine.' Said the soft, departed voice of the figure as it held her. It slowly let down the hand and Melran turned to face the figure, a dark swollen mass of mist stood tall in the form of a man, but featureless.
'It's you, isn't it.' Melran said.
'Is Azin dead.' The figure asked coldly.
'Yes, but there were survivors.' Melran replied.
'It is expected. Though the main targets are taken care of. I am proud of you, my friend. Now, return to me and we will begin your final training.' The figure replied.
'He was here. He connected through me, and spoke with Azin.' Melran replied, her hands shaking as she spoke.
'His strength was never in question. We are loyal, and he knows that. Azin and his kind will bend the knee to him or die. They know that.'
Melran looked toward the being, a tear began to form in her eye. The being came closer, it formed a skeletal hand and took the tear as it fell from her eye.
'Interesting.' It said. 'You appear attached to the situation.'
'Don't doubt me.' Melran replied, suddenly grabbing at the skeletal arm and holding it tightly.
'Believe me, I wouldn't be so foolish.' The being replied, evaporating the arm and causing Melran to stumble forward. Catching herself on a branch, snapping it with her weight, the figure quickly shifted itself so as to back her against a tree.
'Begin the next step. Ensure that the journey is undertaken and bring me what he needs.' The voice said, fading away, as the mist descended softly onto the ground. Melran moved to grab at where the being had stood but found nothing, apart from the sharp bright lamplight of the soldiers as they bound down the incline towards her.