Elementalist: The beginning

Prelude: Tragic beginnings Part 1

His eyes caught the greys of his older brother in the crowd and he felt strength stir within him when his gaze shone with something akin to pride. He couldn't afford to be afraid now. "For Mese!" He bellowed shoving his fist into the air and smiled when he was rewarded with thunderous cries of the same. They needed a leader and for their own sake he would give them one. Pushing his own doubt aside he marched his men to the battlefield and with a mighty battle cry, jumped into the fray.

That was five hours ago... 

Now, under the night sky, a prone body lay unmoving upon a heap of rubble that was once a part of the library's left wing. His grey and green uniform was dirty and torn and blood was leaking from a small gash above his right ginger eyebrow; it was only the small rising and falling of his chest that revealed he was alive. Slowly, with a groan his hazel eyes gently fluttered open. 

The first thing that registered was pain; a sharp pain that probed at his right temple. Wincing as he touched the injury, he tried to come to terms with his surroundings. He had lived though his first war but from the corners of his blurred vision he could see the bodies of his soldiers lying defeated around him, telling him that it wasn't a victorious outcome.  

'War!' 

He painfully lifted his soot-covered back from the ground and looked around in panic remembering he was still in the battlefield-his hand instinctively shooting to his thigh to where his missing blade had once dwelled as his heart beat pulsed heavily through his eardrums.  

"Nell!" He yelled from dry lips causing him to cough violently, voice cracking from the strain. He remembered the teen had been fighting right beside him before he fell and felt unnerved by his absence. 

"N-Nell?" He whispered shakily, finding frighteningly that he didn't want to be alone. There must have been at least two thousand of them that had attacked their small army and he feared there was still survivors lurking around in the shadows, just waiting to attack. He couldn't help but gulp nervously as he continued to scan the area, slowly being encompassed by the creeping mist. In the state he was in now, he would never stand a chance. 

After a quick search, he sighed in relief and slumped against the rocks, feeling the adrenaline rush from his panicked awakening already starting to leave his body. 'We lost...They're all gone,' he thought solemnly, but then he shook his head stubbornly. "No...Some might..." He inhaled deeply, 'I need to get out of here.' 

Crawling to the side of a pile of rubble he picked up a broken branch, burnt off by a nearby fire and he began to stumble towards Lord Grenone's tower; the only building that seemed to have been left untouched by the war and it's advocates. He winced as he accidentally put more weight on his right ankle than he should have and paused to shift his weight onto the other; he had fallen on it during his last encounter, right before he was hit on the head and knocked out. The nineteen year old commander grimaced as he thought back to his embarrassing defeat. How was he ever to face his brothers again? 

He was brought out of his thoughts as the roof of the next house caved in, shooting dust clouds of ash and smoke into the already polluted air. Stomach clenching, he tore his eyes away from the sight and continued on his way to the tower. 

When he arrived, he realized with some relief and hope that he wasn't the only one to come there seeking shelter and easily managed to sneak in unnoticed past the soldiers at the door through the crowd and into a deserted corridor where he flopped himself against the stone wall.  

Grimacing, the teen removed his furred black boot and inspected his ankle, the pain making him decide that seeing his brother could wait a little longer. It was swollen and already turning an unhealthy purple and blue shade at the joint. He bent down closer, his short ginger locks brushing the tips of his lashes whilst he glared at the appendage as if it had betrayed him; the last thing he wanted was a trip to the medical ward.