Fen

She sat next to the bed, where Lost lay. He was deathly still, but breathing. It had been a day since she found the old harpy. The harpy -Sadora- who had been kind to her and fed her. She had cared for her like a grandmother would their granddaughter. Something that Fen had learned to treasure.

Fen knew they had to get moving soon, they were still close to the capital.

Sadora came up behind Fen, “Child, you should rest.”

Fen turned to her, tail curled around her waist. “I can’t sleep.”

The harpy sighed sadly, then shifted off to the table. Where she was mashing up herbs and vegetables for a lunch soup. After a little bit, she set the pot over the fire and poured some water into it, letting it boil.

The sound of horse hooves pounding outside were caught by Fen’s wolven ears. Fen turned to Sadora, “There's someone outside.”

Sadora grunted and moved over to the door, “Stay inside here. I will get them to leave.” She then opened the door, shifted her wings, and stepped outside.

Fen listened, trying to figure out what was being said outside. She moved over to the only window in the cabin, peeking out from between the curtains.

There were at least 20 elves, all wearing the royal insignia. A bow crossed with a scroll, over a golden crown. They were all heavily armored and mounted.

Dismounting, the commander walked over to where Sadora stood at the stairs of the porch.

“Have you seen this person?” asked the commander gruffly, unrolling a parchment and revealing a picture of Lost; not him in a hood, but his actual, thin, tired looking face.

“I have not,” calmly responded Sadora.

The commander growled, glaring at her from under his helmet. “We know he came this way, now tell us where he is and your life will be spared.”

“I am sorry, but he is not here.”

The commander looked around, and spotted the horse still tethered to the rail.

Fen’s stomach sank; they were caught. Why would a hermit like Sadora own horse without a stable?

The commander rolled up the parchment and handed it off to one of the other soldiers. He drew his sword and advanced on Sadora.

Sadora didn't wait for the elf to get to her first. She lunged forward, stretching her old wings out behind her, letting loose a bird like shriek.

She sunk her claws into the commander’s shoulders, flinging him back and to the ground.

Fen didn't wait any longer. She couldn't let the soldiers get to Lost or kill Sadora.

She slammed the door of the cabin open, conjuring the rifle up from her memory. It formed in her hands. She focused on it, directing her thoughts to make it solid.

It became heavy in her hands. She didn't think, all her focus on keeping it solid. She aimed at one of the now dismounted elves. And fired.

A resounding crack echoed through the still air. The rifle jolted back in Fen’s hands, but the bullet stayed true and struck the elf in the chest, the bullet shredding through his iron armor. He went down with a cry of pain.

Sadora was now struggling on the ground with the elven commander, trying to slash at his eyes. The commander groped at the side of his leg, then pulled out a dagger, fending off Sadora’s blows.

Fen shouted, trying to warn Sadora, “Look out!” But she was to late, the commander shoved the knife into the harpy’s stomach. She let out a shout of pain and slouched forward, still trying to claw the elf’s eyes out. Fen ran towards where the captain and Sadora lay. Before she could get there, one of the guards hit her over the head with the pummel of his sword.

She crumpled to the ground, pain exploding from the side of her head.

Lost

Lost sat up in bed, the pain in his shoulder no longer there. A cloth wrapping tied around it.

He could hear shouts and Fen scream. There was the crack of a rifle and shouting of men.

For some reason he was laughing; he wasn't sure why. It was a manic laugh.

Lost climbed out of the bed, rage filling him at the sounds of Fen’s screams. He couldn't stand by and let Fen get hurt. His mind was fuzzy, but he could feel that his magic pool had grown significantly.

Looking around, he found his sword leaning on the side of the bed, with the cloak still wrapped around it. He put on the cloak and pulled the hood up.

He then strapped the sword on his back, unsheathing it and pushing magic into the blade. The glyphs of power along it glowed a bright amber.

Lost ran out the door, his feet bare. There, Fen lay crumpled on the ground and the old harpy lay in a pool of blood. Anger bubbled up from inside Lost’s chest. He pointed his rage at the soldiers around him.

He ran to the closest one near Fen, becoming a black hooded blur. Before the elf even knew what hit him, Lost had cut his throat and pierced his heart mercilessly. The body of the elf fell to the ground, blood pouring from his wounds, a look of shock in his eyes.

Lost, looked around at his opponents. There were at least 18 of them. He held his sword out, guarding Fen.

He would need help if he was going to fight all these guards. So he used his power. His power of black magic. Lost pushed a surge of magic through his sword, using it as a way to double his power. Then he plunged the blade into the chest of the elf he had killed only seconds ago, then pulled it out with yellow sparks coming from the wound he inflicted on the body.

The corpse jerked to life, black flames burning in place of its eyes. It let out a moan, climbing to its feet. It picked the blade up from its own pool of blood.

Lost laughed madly. He hadn't realised how much he had missed using his power, how much he had missed fighting.

The surrounding soldiers all took steps back, unsure of what to make of their comrade who should have been dead.

The commanding officer of this group yelled, “It’s a trick, don't be deceived, that ain't Thach.”

Then the elf attacked the walking corpse, slicing down with an arc. The corpse, from pure muscle memory, blocked the attack and advanced, starting it’s own attack.

Lost didn't wait for the other soldiers to attack, he charged toward them, readying his blade. He arced his sword over his head, cutting into the shoulder of a solider. The elf soldier screamed in pain, but Lost didn't stop there. He pushed the blade down, cleaving a part of the elf’s shoulder and his arm off in a shower of blood.

Lost moved on to the next elf, this time the elf was able to deflect the blow. Then the soldier went in for a lunge, but Lost parried it. He switched his sword to his left hand effortlessly and slashed the elf’s side.

The animated corpse had already dispatched of the commander, at the price of a hand, but it continued on, ignoring the injury.

Lost killed his current opponent with a chop to the side of the head, cleaving it off. He darted to the next soldier. This time his fight was interrupted by another elf, and he was fighting two opponents.

Through all this, he was still laughing for glee, bringing the dead back to help him fight the dwindling elves. He wasn't exactly sure why he was laughing, his mind completely focused on empowering the corpses and killing the soldiers. Lost had become a machine, a killing machine.

The small clearing was filled with bloodcurdling screams, and the ground was stained red. Laughter following after it.

******

An Insignificant Soldier

Felix was a cog in the machine. His job was to be mindless and follow orders. Nothing more, nothing less. He accepted it, following orders and not questioning them.

So when he, and two other scouts were given the task of scouting out the next village in the human lands, he did not question it. They had already captured a town near the elven border, only about four days away. They had turned it into a sort of fort and were using it as a supply station for troops.

The scouts were tasked with scouting ahead for any possible enemy forces, so far the humans had yet to send any soldiers to oppose them. It had been easy picking so far.

They were to scout out one of the towns within the noble Sargon’s land.

The human lands were split up, unlike the the elve’s. The elven land was united up under one person, King Nerofix The 68th.

The Human’s had a king. The current king; Bracken. Most referred to him as ‘The Great Emperor’, but his land was split up among the Nobles. Everything on the noble’s land belonged to them, and if you wished to build upon it, then you must ask the noble. The noble could raise the tax however high they wanted, and some even hired people to gather resources. It was a complex system and Felix only had a vague knowledge on how it was done.

Currently, the noble Sargon's land was the closest to the elven border. This town that Felix and two other scouts were tasked with investigating was specialized in trade and mining.

They crested the small ridge, making sure to stay concealed under the tree cover.

The town lay below, a stone wall surrounding it. The trees of the forest were pushed back half a mile from the town.

Oddly, the walls were unmanned, the gate unguarded. There were no carts moving from the gates or back. The carts were lying deserted on the road, the animals supposed to be pulling them no longer hitched to the wagons and carts.

Felix squinted, looking for any movement on the streets of the town, but the walls were to high to see into the town.

Something about the air wasn't right, but he couldn't place it. Looking around, he finally figured it out. There was no chirping of birds like before, or scuttle of animals in the underbrush. There wasn't even the buzz of bugs or a breeze.

“I don't like this,” Felix said, looking back at the other two elven scouts.

“Would you rather face General Regan’s wrath?” Growled the bigger of the three scouts. He had muscles, but his build was lean. The elf shifted back and forth warily, looking at the silent town.

Felix nodded, looking at the town, trying to discern any life within.

The scouts moved from the tree line, crouching in the tall grass of the field surrounding the town. As they slowly approached, Felix was prepared to bolt at the first sight of guards appearing on the walls, bows drawn and ready to fire.

None appeared.

Felix made it to the gate that was wide open.

The streets were empty, not even a breeze was in the air. As if the entire world was holding its breath. It was a ghost town

Could they have evacuated the town because of the start of the elven invasion? No, why would they just leave the carts lying on the road?

“We should turn back,” squeaked the small elven scout, he was little more than a boy the age of 17. He was most likely drafted into the army. Felix didn't know the other two scout’s names and he didn't want to.

The lean scout just pushed them forward, trying to encourage them, but not succeeding. His eyes were constantly shifting, looking at alleyways, the streets and in stores as they silently shifted through the deathly quiet town. The eerie feeling of the place making them stick together, for what reason, Felix was not sure.

Lean, as Felix had decided to think of him, led them around the corner of a building, stopping dead in his tracks.

Felix turned the corner after him, looking on the scene that beheld him.

It was the town square, the center piece a giant tree. It’s branches used to have leaves on them, but no longer. All the leaves had fallen to the ground, withered and dead, almost like in the winter. But that wasn't what caught their attention, it was the bodies. They were everywhere, littering the ground, piled up in some places. All of them untouched, but clearly dead. The corpse’s eyes were open and mouths gaping, expressions of fear and shock frozen on their dead faces.

The little scout let out a gasp, taking steps back. Lean was frozen and Felix was immediately on guard.

‘What could have done this?’ Felix thought, looking at the corpses. He drew his knife, prepared to run. He felt no sorrow for the humans, they were a lower species than elf, after all. But, something that could kill so many, was definitely a danger.

Before he could run, a shadow passed over them. It fell from the roof of the building, landing on Lean.

He screamed in fear and pain, as the beast held him to the ground.

The shadow that jumped on Lean was about the size of a man, but that was the only relation. It had three fingers on each hand, each with long black curved claws. It had the lower body of a gray wolf, but standing upright and its upper body was that of a raven, covered in shiny black feathers. Twisted wings sprouted from its back, clearly unusable. It had the head of a dog, but the eyes were that of a raven. It had a snout instead of a beak, and it was overflowing with teeth, saliva dripping from them.

It let out a howl of rage and opened its maw around Lean’s face.

Felix expected it to clamp down, but it didn't. Infact, Lean screamed in agony, his face mirroring the many corpses’ faces. A thin, white, glowing stream came out of his mouth and entered the monster's maw.

This only happened in a few seconds, Felix barely able to process it.

The stream ended and the monster unlatched itself from the now dead Lean. It turned around, growling at the two remaining elven scouts. The boy bolted, leaving Felix to fend for himself.

Felix, in a desperate attempt, lunged forward and stabbed the bird-wolf monster in the shoulder. It let out a howl of pain, racking it’s claws across Felix's chest. The black claws ripped through the leather armor, leaving three red, ragged lines on his chest.

Stumbling back, Felix ran down the cobbled street.

The monster was hot on his trail, roaring in hunger and anger. It jumped, hitting the desperate scout square in the back and pinning him to the ground face down.

He struggled under its weight, trying to get his arm out from under him to stab it with the knife.

The monster’s mouth was wide open, ready to bite Felix’s head off. It didn't get the chance.

A shrill whistle and the creature snapped its mouth closed, hopping off Felix with a whimper of disappointment.

Not looking, Felix scrambled to his feet and started running for the nearest alleyway.

His body was locked up after the first step, frozen in place. His muscles fighting against him. He strained as hard as he could, trying to take a step forward, but he couldn't. Trying to scream, he found his jaw muscles locked into place, the only thing working was his eyes and breathing.

A person walked in front of him. It was a human woman, maybe 30. She had long, brown hair and tanned skin. Wearing an ornate red and gold robe, one that belonged to human nobles. The thing that was disturbing about her was that she had her eyes open, but her pupils were not there. You could just see the edge of them, rolled back in her head.

She gave a warm smile.

The monster, on all fours now, walked over to her side. She petted it daintily on the head, as if it were a puppy.

“It has been a long time since I have seen an elf,” the woman said, looking at Felix like he was some kind of fascinating insect.

She focused on him. Her rolled back eyes unseeing, yet seeing.

Felix felt like ants were crawling all over his brain, a tingling feeling. It lasted for a few minutes, as he struggled to try and get away, but couldn't.

When it ended, the noble woman’s face lit up with a surprised smile. She started laughing.

Once she got herself under control, she spoke again, looking off in the distance. Where the elven borders were, “So you're alive! I thought I had killed you. This time, I will make sure it’s permanent, Brother.”

She turned back to the frozen Felix, smiling sweetly at him. “I have use of you.”

Walking off towards the square she waved her hand in a following motion, and Felix’s body responded against his will, following her. The monster growling at him from behind.

All the time, she laughed merrily.

Fen

She watched as Lost and the reanimated corpses destroyed the elven soldiers mercilessly. Blood was everywhere, and she froze up at the sheer sight.

Thinking of the Black Angel helped her get over her fears, whether or not it was Lost, she wasn't sure.

Only a few minutes later, all the elves were dead, but walking.

Lost stood in the middle, breathing heavily and blood dripping of his blade onto the crimson ground, looking away from her.

Through the entire battle, he laughed insanely. The entire battle had only lasted for a few minutes. In those few minutes, the entire squad of soldiers was brutally killed.

Lost flicked the blood from his blade, then wiped it on a shirt of a nearby corpse.

He sheathed it on his back with a swish.

The standing corpses fell to the ground, as if their strings were cut. The black fire burning in their eye sockets no longer there, instead just glazed eyes.

Fen got to her feet, tail limply swishing behind her and ears down.

He turned to look at her, his face hidden in shadow and glowing amber eyes. “Hey, kid. It’s been a bit, hasn't it?”

Fen could only nod, looking at the corpses of the men. She wasn't sure whether to be horrified at the brutality of it, or thankful that Lost had saved her.

Lost followed her gaze, and gave a dry laugh. “Hah... I’ve got a bigger magic pool.”

“I… Are you okay, Lost?” Fen asked, concerned. She was a little scared of him. How had he brought those corpses back? It couldn't just be as simple as growing more magic.

Lost looked down at himself. His cloak was splattered with blood. “Yeah, never felt better!” He said, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms, then he winced.

Fen could feel the pain in the back of her head, where she was hit. Looking around, her eyes fell on the corpse of Sadora. She gulped, holding back tears. “C-can we go?”

Lost nodded, he stepped toward her, carefully avoiding the corpses. His feet were bare and covered in blood and mud. He looked down at his feet and snorted, “Yeah. We can go. I just need to find my damn boots first.” He put his hand on her shoulder, staring into her eyes where tears threatened to spill out.

He enveloped her in a hug and she hugged him back, crying.

“I’m sorry,” Lost said patting her head. He looked out to the elven border wall, “My revenge will have to wait. I have decided. We need to stop this tyrant of a king.”