Odyssey of Shadows

III - A Chance Encounter

"Do not blame yourself for their deaths, young man. There was nothing you could have done. Whatever happened on that night happened because of an otherworldly force," he said, his voice stern yet gentle. "You were not the only one to lose someone special. Look around at our survivors. This cave is filled with only grown men, Varenyl. No women, no children."

Varenyl suddenly staggered to his feet, his eyes wide. He took one more last, horrified look at the king before running out of the closed off section of the cave.

Sebastien remained standing after he had left. He gazed at the swaying curtain with sorrow filled eyes before breathing out a soft sigh.

"Should I go after him, sir?" the guard offered.

The king shook his head. "He is beyond our control, Elyk. That poor, poor man. But I doubt that he is the only one here to be traumatized."

"Wylcher is watching the trail at the moment. He will try and stop him."

"Let us pray that Jorona does not do anything rash, then. But I do not think that Varenyl Jorona is himself any longer." He turned back around. "I just pray that my people can get to Kei Belanora safely. We are running very low on supplies. Let us pray for both Varenyl and ourselves."

~-~-~

Varenyl sat down on the grass alongside the road he was travelling. He had ditched his uniform and was instead wearing a white cloak that hid his weapons and belongings just like his robes had done before. He had, however, kept the helmet. He sat there for a while, gazing at his surroundings.

It had been two weeks since he had left the refugee camp in the mountains. Two weeks since he had lost everything. He had still seen no sign of the dragon, or any dragon for that matter. Sleeping had been extremely hard. Every time he shut his eyes he saw the flames. He didn't think that he could ever have a peaceful night's rest again. He wasn't feeling quite himself recently either, but he no longer cared. He no longer cared about anything, just killing that dragon. He had just enough coin on him to buy food and supplies at towns he passed through, but he always slept outdoors.

He was somewhere near the middle of Dalyntarth now. It was beautiful there. In the far northeast, he could see the Dalrum Mountains. They were not like the ones back home; these were green with the trees that covered them. The chirping of birds in the nearby trees filled his ears and made him feel at ease. A spring morning's sun shined in the pale blue sky. But as Varenyl looked, he thought that he could see a black cloud rising into the heavens, not far from where he was.

Smoke.

A city was on fire.

Without another thought, he rolled up his thin sleeping mat and set off towards it.

~-~-~

Isendir sat heavily down upon the ash covered ground, feeling extremely light headed and woozy. His soot covered hand gripped his knee as a coughing spasm abruptly racked his body. He gasped for air as his vision began blacking out.

When the spasm passed, he leaned back against the stone wall,  wheezing, and clutching at his chest. He let his eyes shut. 

This place was like a damn maze. Not all of the city had been destroyed, but Isendir had yet to see another living soul after about an hour of running around. The skeletal remains of the houses burned a faint orange as the flames slowly died out. The sun shined bright in the sky, and a gentle breeze blew. But the air was still stuffy with death and the memory of what had happened. It was hard to breathe and not want to gag.

The Highlander was still in shock. It had happened so fast. Dragon attacks were rare as it was in that day and age. Their kind tended to stay out of the way of humans and other races unless provoked. For three to attack at once and with such ferocity was unimaginable.