Chapter 1
Messenger of Doom
4.0649.0913
(4th Age, 649th Year, 9th Month, 13th Day)
rasping the weather beaten boulder with his blood covered hands; he dragged his torso out of the freezing river water. Fluids oozed out from ruptured burn blisters across his face, neck and one arm. Leaning against the flat side of the cold rock, he paused to rest. Now that the council members are dead, no one else knows of the upcoming attack. The fate of the land now rest on my shoulders. It’s imperative that I survive, he ordered himself.
Pressure squeezed his head from all directions, blood tasted coppery upon his lips, and stabbing spikes of pain ran up his legs. Survival was not guaranteed. His first order of business was to get to a safe location, and then to determine the extent of his injuries. Fighting the river’s current, he swung his lower limbs out and onto the rocks that lined the rushing waters.
Pulling his body past the top of the boulder, he quickly found himself rolling over the other side onto another set of rocks. His spine cracked as he landed flat on his back. Losing whatever breath he had regained from the river, he lay on the newly found rocks for a few minutes and stared up at the stars. They were difficult to see as a haze clouded them and prevented any clarity.
Ambrosius’ lean and tall body appeared frail and lanky among the resilient stones. Wet shoulder-length mahogany colored hair matted to his face, which was outlined by a properly trimmed beard and mustache. Made of the finest cloths, his clothes were ripped, torn and soiled with mud. He was out of his element, but he was a survivor.
Once rested, he dragged himself off the rocky banks and into a grassy area to assess his health. It was a challenge to see with the night’s dim light. Starting at his hips, he used his hands to inspect his lower limbs for injuries. Thick wet clothes made it difficult. Nevertheless, rips in his pants legs allowed him to make contact with his skin and he quickly recognized the problem. His right leg had a long gash with a stone shard wedged deep into one end.
The other leg was obviously broken as he felt one of the bones pushing the skin out an inch from where it should be. Instinctively reaching for his side bag, he realized it wasn’t there, nor was his metal quarterstaff. He would have to get along without them. He had healed his own wounds in the past and he doubted that this would be his last.
A sudden overwhelming feeling of sickness washed over him. He felt flushed, nauseous, and lightheaded. Fighting the sensation only increased its intensity. Immediate action was required before he passed out. The injuries could be worse than he had assumed.
Ambrosius sat quietly for a moment to regain his composure and thoughts before focusing on the stone embedded deep into his thigh. Reaching out with the unique powers of his mind, he began to pull the granite shard out of his flesh. The stone began to vibrate. Making a slight lurch forward, it became blocked from its escape by his own skin. Pulling harder with his powers, the shard finally ripped out of his leg, tearing the flesh which held it in place. Catching the rock in his left hand, he screamed as blood gushed from the wound.
Still tormented from this newly self-inflicted pain, he tore a piece of his tunic off and wrapped it around his leg to stop the excessive bleeding from the now larger cut. One down, one to go.
Reaching out again with his powers, he then focused on repairing his broken limb. Normally his abilities were second nature, such as walking is for most. Instead, he struggled to use them to do nothing more than lift his lower leg off the ground and begin pushing the bone toward its original position. He was getting weaker with every passing moment.
Excruciating pain shot up his leg causing him to yell in agony. It was becoming too great to handle. One last quick burst of power from his thoughts gave it the needed shove, popping the bone back into place.
Snap!
“Awwww!” Ambrosius screamed, dropping his leg to the ground and collapsing from the pain. His entire body hurt. How much of what he thought to be water was actually blood? How much had he lost?
His self-concern stopped once he heard the sound of an animal from behind him, away from the shore. Silence followed. Looking through the haze was difficult and resulted in no answers. Rushing waters raced by on one side of him, while the trees blowing in the wind could be heard on the other. He turned to face the trees, gathering his bearings and options.
Sitting ever so still, he waited to see or hear something. Anything. It finally came in the form of a deep growl from within the trees. Perhaps up in them. It was not the call of a wolf or any large cat species that he knew of. Patiently, he waited for it again. A few moments later he heard another noise. This time the sound was from his right as he faced the woods. The growl was slightly higher pitched and had various clicks within it.
Thrashers
Ambrosius had seen these carnivorous apes in captivity but never in the wild. Tribal in nature, thrashers attack all creatures entering their range in a crazed frenzy like a swarm of bees or ants. They were aggressive to anything, regardless of its size.
Changing his location, he pulled himself the short distance back to the rock formations near the river. The pain was intense with every move he made. He was again feeling faint. Leaning back on a boulder, he faced the trees and looked up at the ever-darkening starlight. He could taste blood dripping down from his face and his breathing was no longer a subconscious effort as he struggled to keep it under control. He tried to sit still and relax.
A series of barks came from the left, followed by a single howl straight in front of him. If it wasn’t the sound of the river drowning out the movement noise of the thrashers, then it was the ringing in his ears that had been nonstop since he woke up on the rocky shore. Where are you? Squinting, he tried to see any activity to focus his powers on. Perhaps a friendly shove will scare you off and send you on your way.
He listened to a few more clicks and howls from the trees at various elevations. By this point he couldn’t see anything. The haze had totally removed all visibility. He focused his thoughts and energy on the blackness directly in front of him and waited for a noise to come from it.
Eventually, one of the barks and clicks came from the area of his focus and Ambrosius pushed with his mind in hopes to scare the creature off. Tree limbs snapped and crashed to the ground, followed by a moment of silence. It was short lived as it was shattered by a screaming howl filled with clicks. The trees came alive with noise. Sounds of tree branches slapping against each other and howling filled the air from every direction along the shoreline woods.
One of them had jumped out of a tree and landed with a thud. A second one hit the ground and then another. Ambrosius’ heart sank as it sounded like an apple tree that had lost its fruit all at once.
A screaming roar came from directly in front of Ambrosius and was followed with growls by a multitude of others. The first beast charged toward him and was cut short as Ambrosius lifted his hands and used his powers to shove the creature back. Quickly realizing that it did not stop the rest, he spread his arms out to his sides to push them all away. A force emanated from him in a hundred and eighty-degree arc bowling over anything in its path. The sounds of surprised creatures resounded from every direction except one, behind him.
It was too late. A slash across his outstretched arm ripped open his forearm. A second assault from the other side caught his neck. There were several thrashers on the boulder behind him, mauling his upper torso.
The fallen creatures in front of Ambrosius quickly regained their footing and joined the attack. It was only moments before the hairy beasts had grabbed onto his arms and legs in an attempt to rip them off. Ambrosius was now off the ground in a tug-of-war for body parts.
This is it, he thought. This was how the great Ambrosius was going to die, devoured by wild animals. No longer will I be remembered for the Dovenar Civil War. Instead, the death of the Grand Council will ring in the ears of those who would speak my name.
In one last-ditch effort, Ambrosius pushed away the pain for a brief moment. Pulling all of his energy into focus in that fraction of a second, he shoved as hard as he could in every direction.
He was airborne and there was silence. Calm encapsulated his body and mind as he floated and began to recall the memories of his life. He wondered if he had died.
A wave of wind interrupted his bliss followed by a thunderous crack of tree limbs. It was the last sounds he heard as he crashed back to earth, knocking him unconscious.
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