Spoils of War
The jarring clank of metal echoed loudly in Laeth’s human ears. His hands and fingers throbbing painfully. Not just from what seemed like endless hours gripping the hilt of his broadsword, but from the sheer force of it being whacked from his hands. Landing well out of his reach on the blood and gore soaked earth several feet away, but it may as well have been miles.
Noo!!
He didn’t have time to go for it, too preoccupied with dodging the slice of a bloody battle axe that further widened that distance. Two agile backflips would give him enough room to reach for his bow, but his bruised and cramping hands met nothing but air. That’s right, his bow had broken some time ago. But even if it had been there he would have found his quiver empty instead. Despair clawed at his throat, though you wouldn’t have been able to tell by the frustrated roar of defiance that escaped full blood smeared lips at the realization.
He spit blood into the dirt, his blood or demon blood he wasn’t sure. Dodging meaty hands and blades as he tried to maneuver his way back toward his sword uselessly. Two of the hoard intentionally blocked his path. Just as they had cut him and his squadron off from the larger group, blocking any aid or chance of escape. One by one his comrades, his friends, had been slaughtered around him. Leaving him completely and utterly alone. Exhaustion nipped at his heels as he swiftly sidestepped over those familiar bodies while dodging swipe and cleave of axe and sword. So focused on his own sword, on the salvation and hope it bore, that he didn’t hear the surprise attack to his side until it was too late.
The sharp whip of wind that came just before the massive maul is what alerted him. His head snapping over, luminous crystal blue eyes widened in terror as the hammer struck his chest plate. He would have screamed if the strike hadn’t knocked every ounce of air from his lungs. Sending him flying head over feet, again and again, a still warm body softening his hard landing. His ears rang, his head spun, and his chest ached fiercely against the concave metal but Laeth refused to give up. Even though it was so clearly over for him. Instead he tried desperately to right himself. When sound finally returned it consisted of the quick erratic beating of his heart. Accompanied by the sound of wheezing and gasping as he tried and failed to suck in air. Though it didn’t sound like himself at all, and that scared him more than anything thus far.
One massive crimson hand adorned by sharp black nails grabbed his skull. Yanking his lithe armor bound body up to his knees like he were naught but a rag doll. His head was tilted back harshly exposing the long pale line of his neck, drench in sweat and blood. The cold steel against his throat had all of the fear suddenly melting away. Every muscle in his bruised and battered body screamed for absolution. He was exhausted, made obvious in how his arms hung limply at his sides making no effort to move up and fight off his attacker. Or in how those vibrant eyes were closed. Not pinched closed in pained anticipation of that blade opening his skin and razing through his windpipe, but the peaceful brush of long golden lashes against blood, sweat, and dirt speckled cheeks. The truth of the matter was Laeth was relieved it was finally over. He was done and glad for it.
”Don’t! She wants the Lightbringer alive.” a deep demonic voice boomed. Ordering his hoard brother to halt his hand just before the sweetness of everlasting sleep released Laeth from this hell on earth. Those brilliant blue orbs shot open at those words, rage flittering through them as golden brows pulled together in confusion. ”You will release me!” Laeth commanded, balling his hands into tight fists as he thrust his own neck toward the blade. Intending to end himself if they wouldn’t do the job for him, but only managing a small cut that lightly trickled fresh blood before the blade was pulled away from him.
”Bring him.” the demon commander growled, dead white eyes boring into Laeth’s as he waved a hand through the air. Summoning forth a portal of pure darkness that opened like the maw of a beast into the bloody dirt of the desert floor. Shadow flames lapping around its edges like hungry tongues which had Laeth’s blood running cold.
Don’t ever let them take you alive. Kill yourself if you have to. You’ll wish you’d died a thousand times if you end up their prisoner.
The familiar voice of his long dead mentor ran through his mind as the realization of his new circumstances dawned upon him. Which had adrenaline gushing into his system, plumping his muscles and limbs with fresh blood and vitality.
”No.. NO!!!” he screamed out, the fear clear in the shaking of his otherwise elegant voice. A massive arm would wind around his slim waist lifting him completely off the floor. The large hand that had been secured to his head moving slightly to tangle in his wavy shoulder length golden locks that were caked in blood and dirt, much like the rest of him. Laeth would hiss and spit and writhe and kick and flail. Hands punching and scratching, teeth biting in-between roars and wails. All to no avail. The demon would follow after his commander, stepping into the portal and falling straight down into nothingness.
Laeth’s stomach would fly into his throat as the world was literally ripped out from underneath him. The darkness was thick and suffocating as it enveloped him completely. Seeping into every crack and crevice that it could. Filling those pretty eyes and blinding him. Filling his human ears and making him deaf. Before finally filling his nose, mouth, and lungs choking and smothering him. In his last seconds of consciousness he prayed to god that this was death, he vehemently begged for it to be before finally succumbing and passing out.