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[Dynast-Kid]

“Sara! Sara, where are you!?” yelled a disheveled middle-aged man, his slate gray muscle shirt ripped and splattered with mud and blood. He ran through the streets of the large village, a torrent of rain showering the area. Despite the rain, a fire raged on in the stables. No longer could the villagers mount their flightless avian steed, the Aepyorn, and flee their raided village.

The man continued running through the chaotic streets, each second gone by meant another precious moment lost. A moment that could determine his fiancée’s fate. He elbowed his way through the crowd of spear-toting men and wailing women, all in search for his precious Sara. The man eventually made his way through the frantic gathering and stopped to catch his breath. At the ominous sound of hoof meeting mud, he knew what was next. He looked up to see an Avacirian Cavalrymen, a broadsword in hand, who quickly sliced off the head of one of his neighbors. Oh why gods, why did the raiders have to invade their village? Why did so many have to die?

The man’s eyes darted to the left and caught a glimpse of another cavalrymen charging into the fray. His eyes then fell upon a thick stick, a makeshift club, and he quickly ran over to grab this weapon he'd use to reunite with his beloved Sara. The man swiftly ran and hid behind a collapsing hut. Sweat flooded his sun-tanned brow, and ran slowly down the side of his face. He poked his head around the edge of the hut, spotting another cavalryman, this one wielding a long saber. As the cavalryman’s horse reached the edge of his hiding place, the man swung down with all of his might at the horse, shattering its spinal cord. The horse bucked in pain, and sent its rider flying into an adjacent hut, dropping his blade in the process. The villager man ran and grabbed the sword; he had previously trained under the tutelage of a swords master, and knew how to wield it adeptly. Fury burning in his eyes, the man ran blindly into the mosh of rebelling village men, Avacirian soldiers, and fleeing village women and children.

Swinging his saber without aim or precaution, the man sped through the crowd, maiming and slashing all who were unfortunate to befall its wrathful path. Cutting a straight path through the barrier of humans, the man made it to the far side of the village.

“Sara!” he shouted, the desperation in his voice more apparent than ever. Emerging from the shadows, a slender woman threw herself into his chest, tears flowing from her eyes and her sobs bringing uneasy comfort to the man’s ears.

“Cyrus…I thought you’d…” Sara tried to manage as tears streaked down her cheeks and staining her blue halter neck top. Cyrus wrapped his muscular arms around her, trying to comfort his distraught lover.

“Sara, we must leave, now.” Cyrus sternly whispered as he wiped tears from Sara’s sea-green eyes. She gently nodded her head and pointed towards the eastern gate into the village, the only entry into the village not yet guarded by Avacirian infantrymen. Sara grabbed Cyrus’s large hand and led him along as they slunk into the eastern reaches of the city and towards the unguarded gate. Sara stopped several feet from the gate, the sound of clanking metal signifying the approach of more Avacirian infantrymen. They were trapped on all sides. Sara collapsed onto her knees, dragging Cyrus down with her.

“Cyrus, no matter what happens, I want you to know that—“Sara stopped mid-sentence. She had so much more to say, to reassure Cyrus that she truly, with all of her heart loved him. The only think that halted her passionate monologue was the arrowhead lodged deep within her chest. Her eyes grew big as the arrow rested inside her aorta, and quickly ended her life in the blink of an eye. Her limp body slumped to the ground.

Cyrus stood as still as a sturdy mountain. Images of Sara inundated his mind as the familiar and haunting clank of metal grew nearer. His eyes wandered from the lifeless body of his love, to the unremorseful gaze of an Avacirian general.

“Pathetic. Peasant love…It’s disgusting.” the general’s voice swam ominously from his face-cloaking helm, as a young archer silently marched to his side. Cyrus’s eyes were fixated on the way the flames that engulfed his village danced eerily across the plates of the general’s armor, mocking his tremendous loss. Rage coursed through his veins.

“You bastard!” Cyrus shouted as he sprang up and backhanded the visor of the general’s helmet. It stung his hand unbearably, but his unbridled rage was what nullified the pain, and kept him swinging. The general laughed at Cyrus’s attempt to damage him. It did little more than dent his visor.

“Foolish man…I had considered sparing your life, you possessing a physique worthy of a great soldier. But it looks as if the honor of your slut girlfriend has sealed your fate. Darius, fire at will.” And with a snap of his fingers, the young archer fired his bow, sending a razor-sharp arrow puncturing Cyrus’s right lung. Cyrus collapsed to the ground, gasping to catch precious pockets of air. The general and his archer boy stood idly by and watched as Cyrus writhed in the mud; pain washing over the young man’s dying body. The general snickered as Cyrus’s body performed its final spasm, and as his eyes filled with the emptiness brought on by death, and death alone. But for one small, small, moment, the general felt a pang of guilt. Not only had he the blood of two young people stained to his armor, he had the blood of true, unyielding, unconditional, warm, hopeful, joyful, comforting, invigorating, honest, unbridled love stained into his very soul…

___

Did you like my short story? Constructive criticism is appreciated.

And since I know someone is gonna ask, Avaciria is a country that I created. They're the world superpwer of their planet, and are out to take control of a magical gem that could help solidify them as a global empire and...Y'know it's too complicated to get into now, so i'll just leave it at this: Avaciria is a country that wants to take over the world.

Remember, constructive critique please! Or you could just tell me if you like it or not.

[Leen-Leen]

Nice, nice! Wait, what, did you say 'short story?' Does that mean that there is no continuation? :o

[Dynast-Kid]

Originally Posted by innocentenshi7 ^

Nice, nice! Wait, what, did you say 'short story?' Does that mean that there is no continuation? :o

Thanks, LEEN-LEEN!

Yeah, 'tis only a short story. It started out being a prologue, but I liked it too much, I thought it deserved it's own...independence?xD