Morrigan's Lost

Chapter One

Ryos stared at the four hundred or so men and women who stood in formation before him. The newest additions to the Order. The men before him had been put through an intense training regimen by his Pryori, tough veterans who had spent most of their lives fighting the Darkness.

As he strode through the assembled files of new initiates, he could see that the training had certainly taken a toll on them. They had been training in the art of the sword and bow since sunrise and their ragged breath stood testament to the intensity of the training. Mastery of the Fell would come later, a weak body and mind would only be food for the Darkness.

Satisfied with what he saw, Ryos trudged towards the front of the assembled files.

"Initiates, the Order is not a kind master. It calls - no - it demands for everything you can offer. Are you up for the challenge?" he shouted across the open grounds before him.

Four hundred voices roared in reply, not the loudest he had heard and certainly not the strongest, but they were filled with hope and courage, something Ryos admired. Nodding his head at the response, he turned towards the large tents set up behind him and gestured.

"Today, you will take your first steps to using the Fell. Most of you claim to have some practice or knowledge of it - that does not matter. But before you begin your training on how to use the Fell, first you must learn to guard yourself from it," Ryos commanded, pulling aside the fabric of his tunic to reveal the black mark which was tattooed over his heart.

"Your first mark, what those within the Order call as the King. Today you will learn how to mark yourself from the Pryori who stand before you. Learn it with pride and show that our faith in you has not been misplaced," he shouted, gesturing wildly with his arms as he did. The King, it had but one meaning and purpose, that the Heart was King, Fell and martial prowess were for naught if the man wielding it didn't have the heart to strike down the foe before him.

As the weary men and women moved into neat files leading into the marking tents, Ryos clasped his left hand over the hilt of Dread, feeling its warmth through his gloved fist. As he stepped through the mass of men and women, those before him parted and greeted him as Primus, averting their gazes towards the bare ground. Ryos scowled at the reverence they paid him, he was but their Primus and in the battlefield, rank did not matter, all that mattered was the brother or sister who stood beside you. Besides, he was no God -  what he demanded was respect and loyalty, not such veneration.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, Ryos shifted his gaze towards the cliff overlooking the Order's training grounds where the other five Cohorts were preparing for a grand festival in celebration of the entrance of Morrigan into the Empire. He smiled at the thought of his brother being straddled with such an unnecessary event.

"My brother would much rather be overseeing the departure of his cohorts than to be entertaining that pig of a Praetor," Ryos thought out loud as he maneuvered himself through the crowd, making his way towards the edge of the Order's training area. His brother had sent a message earlier that day, mentioning that he would be entertaining the Praetor at his mansion, an ordeal Ryos believed would have ended by now.

His face darkened as he thought of the message, especially the cryptic nature in which Roeland had requested to meet with Ryos to discuss something about the nature of the Fell which the islanders practiced. Ryos pushed away the thoughts, knowing that they would be answered before the sun set over Morrigan again. As he crossed from the training grounds into the crowded streets, he pulled up his neck scarf, obscuring his face from the countless common folk who roamed the streets before the celebration that evening.