Whispers Of Peace And War

13

13

It seemed impossible that everything had happened so early in the morning. As the fog began to dissipate, Mythrd looked to the sky to see that the sun had not even reached mid-day. The howling of the Traal also diminished and, as the fog cleared, they sloped away, back to wherever they lay during the hours of light.

Mythrd couldn't help himself. He returned to the edge of the stone circle to gaze upon the devastation the morning's skirmish had caused. He could see nothing moving on the field of battle. If any Gaeradine had survived, they had retreated. None of Hrndrd's fellow warriors lived, nor did their horses. The dead, human and beast, littered the rough grass of the clearing, blood coating the soil, slowly becoming one with the ground.

Two large clumps of soil stood out, where Hrndrd had used his awesome power. Mythrd didn't doubt Hrndrd would have used that power more, were he able to have seen his enemy. Staying within the protection of the stones, Mythrd tried to take a better look at the Gaeradine woman that had attacked him, crushed by the tower of soil and rock. He could see only a hand, fingers splayed as though reaching towards safety. Towards mercy.

"It's best not to dwell on it." Gythryn came to stand beside him. She, too, looked out upon the slaughter, but she seemed far better able to see it without her stomach turning. "They died. We lived. We did what we set out to do. The Abbot is safe."

"What cost will all of this have, Gythryn?" He waved at the field of the dead, frowning. "This is only the start, if the Gaeradine have anything to do with it. They want us all dead. All of us! Just because we happened to live here first."

"That's the way of things. It's always been the way." Her eyes roved across the the area, the last wisps of fog evaporating. Her expression didn't change. "Our ancestors came here and took the land. The people before that did the same. The Tandari, the Gaavjolt. Now the Gaeradine. What people have, others will want."

"But, why war? Why not share? Share food, share land." He fell to his knees, staring at that grasping hand from beneath the remains of the rock and soil tower. "I just don't understand why people have to kill all the time."

He felt the blade of the battle axe dig into his side and tugged it from his belt. Holding it in both hands, he wondered how many people that axe had killed since its forging. Up until a few days ago, he would have joined the army, soon after reaching age, without question. Now, he doubted he could. He was not one to shirk his duties, but he no longer had the stomach for it.

Returning to his feet, he moved the axe into one hand, stepped back and then launched his arm forward, tossing the axe as far as he could throw it. It span and arced through the air, the morning sunlight catching and glinting from the metal head, until it began to fall. Mythrd turned away. He didn't care to see where it landed.

As he turned away, he found Hrndrd stood behind them, his arms crossed upon his chest. Mythrd hadn't noticed before, but Hrndrd, like Gythryn, wore the ceremonial braids that told of his familial losses. One short, the other long, a ring tied into the braided strands of hair. He was, once, married with a child. The mage looked over Mythrd's shoulder towards the battle field.

"You should forage for provisions. There should be food, blankets, water skins and the like upon the horses. If you need weapons, take them from the dead. They no longer have need of them." His head turned as Gythryn gasped at his words. She had no problem taking from the Gaeradine, but looting their Iibarish compatriots looked as though it bothered her far more. "You have my permission. It is a necessity. And get a real sword. Throw that thing away."

He almost spat those last words and his eyes passed across the Gaeradine sword in Gythryn's belt. Gythryn's hand fell to the pommel of the sword, taking a step back, as though using her own body to protect the weapon. She began to speak, then stopped as Hrndrd held her with his eyes.