The gates of kindrea stood tall, it's watchmen ever alert to the looming threat. Morning fog hung low and thick in the air, chilling every breath. From the high walls, the Taloran camp could barely be seen, its fires reduced to faint, flickering embers swallowed by the mist.
A lonesome figure on horseback emerged from the fog.
Archers on the wall snapped to action, raising their bows and drawing arrows swiftly.
"Halt! Identify yourself." One of them barked.
The figure raised his arm. His dark cloak slid of his shoulders, revealing the gleam of a Kindrean ceremonial armor beneath. In his hand, he held the banner of Kindrea, tattered but waving proudly in the cold morning air. He was no stranger. He was Sir Aron of Bran.
He kept his hood on, it cast a shadow on his face, giving him an ominous look.
"Take off your hood so we can confirm who you are." Sir Aldric called from above.
Aron remained silent, ignoring their request.
Sir Aldric scoffed. "We can't let you through till we've seen your face." He replied, with a look of irritation.
Aron didn't respond.
"What do we do now?" the men murmured among themselves, looks of worry and confusion clouded their faces.
"Quit yapping and open the gates." General Arnold growled, stepping forward among them. "The archers will get him if he tries anything."
Aron's breathe ragged as he watched the gates slowly drop, it had a thick wooden frame with bones made from the strongest of iron ores-a gift from Dangard. He held his severed arm, twitching in pain, then chuckled. "I couldn't wait to leave…now I can't wait to return."
Knights leaned over the walls, straining to catch a glimpse of the figure before the gate had fully dropped. General Arnold stood center of them, squinting into the fog. "Is that you, Sir Landor?" He called out.
Aron scoffed under his breath, his jaw tightening. He narrowed his gaze toward the general, tightening his grip on the horse's reins. Moving towards them slowly, the gallops echoing in their hearts. "Everyone thinks I'm Sir Landor…and as far as they know I am." He whispered to himself.
"Yes it's me." Aron answered with his best impression.
Arnold lifted his fore arm up signaling to the archers. "Then show us your face so we won't ruin it with arrows."
Aron brought his steed to a stop, a couple feet away from them. "Only way out…" He said, taking a deep breathe. "…is through" He exhaled, slapping the side of his horse.
The beast reared and bolted forward, charging directly at Arnold.
"Now!" Arnold roared, fist in the air.
Arrows screamed through the sky like lighting. They rained down from above, each one missing Aron by mere inches.
Arnold drew his blade. "Don't let him through!"
Aron drew his.
Their swords clashed, the sound like thunder. Sparks burst from the impact Arnold was thrown to the ground. The men around surged toward the horse, trying to bring it down. The beast reared, kicking back with its hind legs, tossing them aside like rag dolls.
"Hiya!" Aron shouted, urging the horse forward bolting into the heart of the town.
From above the Wall sir Aldric watched in amazement. "There's only a few people I know that could handle a sword so well with their left…"
He leaned closer, eyes widened. "Aron."
Below, Arnold picked himself up, furious. "I want every Knight on ground looking for that man. Bring him to me, dead or alive."
Aron stormed through the cobbled streets of the town, the clatter of hooves echoed off the humble stone walled houses. The townspeople cheered, mistaking him for a returning hero as they caught glimpse of his ceremonial armor.
"Out of the way!" he shouted. Knocking over food stands and bumping into anyone who wasn't fast enough to move. "I'm sorry. Forgive me!" He said, riding on, swatting away hanging linens and ducked beneath archways.
Beyond the town's edge lay a village, home to humble farmers and their golden fields.
In a thick wheat farm, a mother and daughter harvested their crops. The tall stalks stood tall over them, it scratched at their skin, and their fingers ached from work.
The girl pouting at her mum, sighed. "Do we have to do everything today? I'm tired!"
The mother who was equally exhausted, kept her shoulders high, trying set an example for her child. "We just need to do as much as possible." She glanced towards the walls, with a grim expression on her face. "If the siege begins, we need to have as much food stored as we can."
"Ughhh!" The young girl exclaimed. Falling to her back. Arms spread wide in the wheat.
"Come on, Yelena, get up and pick. It'll soon be time for to head home." The mother said.
Yelena ignored her mother. She gazed at the morning sun, the dark blue streaks of the night still lay in the sky. The stars although faint could be seen glittering in defiance of the sun. She reached for them, twirling her fingers as if to grasp one.
Suddenly a low rumble shook the earth beneath her.
The loose pebbles danced around her fingers.
Her ears fidgeted. She arose to see what it was, her eyes widened in shock.
A monstrous figure on horseback erupted from the walls of wheat, charging straight toward her. Her heart thumped as if to jump out of her chest. Chills ran down her spin as her body froze.
A cloud of dust surrounded the figure as it raged forward. It tore across the field like a storm, hooves pounding the dirt, flinging earth into the air.
"Yelena!" Her mother screamed a gut wrenching howl. She sprinted forward to grab her, but the distance was too great.
The rider pulled the horses reins, bringing the beast to a sudden stop. Mere inches from crushing the girl. A cloud of dust whirled around them, choking the air, turning the morning light into a haze.
Her mother's heart quivered as the dust clouds hung heavy on the air, slowly dissipating. "Yelena!" She ran for her daughter grabbing her tightly. "Are you hurt?"
Yelena spat out dust and coughed, her eyes too frightened to be opened. "I'm fine mother." She hugged her mum, sinking her face in her chest, hiding from the scary man.
The rider loomed above, he's clothes worn to the point of resembling rags. But underneath the dust riddled garments, the silver armor of Kindrea glowed under the morning sun.
"You're… a Kindrean knight?" The mother asked stunned by his actions. "What the hell do you think you're doing? You could have killed her!" She sparked at him.
He remained silent
He slowly removed his helm.
"Hello mother," Aron said.
Her heart fell to the ground, mouth opened. Words could not describe her emotion. She could only stare.
"Aron?" Yelena slowly opened her eyes as she recognized her brother's voice.
He tried to force a smile, but his body had grown weak, eyes could barely stay open, his skin pale as the moon from blood loss. He fell from the horse, raising dust off the floor as he landed.
"Aron!" His mother called out as she ran to fetch him, letting Yelena go.
"Ouch," Yelena exclaimed as she fell down.
Her mother cradled Aron tightly, her breath catching in her throat as she saw his severed hand. Tears rolled down her cheeks. "My son."