Chapter 3: Quest For Retribution
Limping from his injuries, Lindley worked his way down the slope of the mountain. He knew he had to move faster if he was to save his family and the villagers. But he was still a long way above the village of Waterpond.
In his apprehension, he stepped on a rock and stumbled, tumbling before stopping beside a small redwood tree.
He sat up breathless against the tree, his eyes blazing in anger. He was trying to stand up when the ghostly whisper of his father's voice reaches his ears. Arundel was calling on the full power of his enchanted sword.
Lindley had only seen him used it once. That was when the shadow orcs invaded their village and were about to capture Lindley and his mother. He knew what those words meant. His father was going to force himself and die in the process.
"I'm coming, Father!" he shouted at the unhearing trees around. "I'm coming!" And he stumbled on, recklessly leaping deadfalls and crashing through thickets, gasping for breath, knowing he'd be too late.
He emerged onto the alley of the village by the carpenter's shop. He looked at the shop but could only see smoking heap of destroyed woods and stone rumbles.
Few feet away to his right, he saw the back of a body protruding out of the broken stones. The body had been scorched beyond recognition by the flames of a fiery creature who carried breath of death in its lungs.
But from its appearance and the half-melted hammer head, Lindley knew the body could only belong to one of the village guardians.
"Dumieres." Lindley muttered as he looked down at the body, swallowing hard. Others must have died in the battle too. This was a mindless act of destruction.
He hurried on around the heap of ruin with his mind in turmoil. He had only taken few steps, when he stopped. He stood staring at the scene before him.
Every building in Waterpond was either in debris or up in flames. The village was filled with rising smokes, covering the lower part of the village from Lindley's sight.
All around him, small fires blazed where trees or woodpiles had caught the destructive flames.
He picked up the pace towards his house as his eyes darted around in their sockets. Seeing his father's house, Lindley fell on his knees and screamed. "Mother! Father!"
His home was now a blackened area of drifting ashes. He searched the place, but there was no traces of his parents.
Beyond his home to the left, he saw that the alchemy's shop had fallen into the street. It was a mass of burning timbers and smashed belongings. Further search showed no living soul was left in the village. The dragon and its rider were gone too.
Lindley was all alone with the dead.
Completely distraught, Lindley continued to search the village. He found corpses, mingled or grilled among the ruins of their homes, but not a single soul that was living.
There was no sign of his mother and father, but he knew they didn't flee. They should be somewhere around here, or their remains.
After searching for several hours, Lindley's hope of finding his parents vanished. He let out a deep sigh and turned towards the meadow.
Then, he saw something protruding from a half-burnt wood beside the alchemst shop. It was the half-melted hilt of the Harbinger Sword.
With a trembling hands, he pulled the sword out and turned it in his hands.
Most parts of the swords were burnt away. Even the ancient magic could no longer be found inside this sword. It had disappeared.
The sword had become a ghost of itself, a remnant. Yet the hilt of the sword felt alive in his hand.
As Lindley held the sword tightly to his chest, the world flipped upside down and he fell on his knees. Tears fell from his eyes for a long time as he knelt among the smoking ashes.
He raised his head to the sky as the sun was disappearing from the sky. A gentle breeze touched his face and he lost conscoiusness.
Lindley dreamt of himself on a narrow path, leading to a large dark building. On the two side of him were the whispering walls. The walls were closing in on him slowly.
He tried to move faster but the path was filled with sinking mud that kept delaying him. He dragged his feet with all his might in apprehension. He didn't want to die now, he had so many things to do.
But the more he moved forward, the more he sank into the mud. Suddenly, hundreds of hands shot out of the mud and reached for him. And he woke up with a startle.
After regaining his consciousness, Lindley sat up, just as nightfall set on the ruin of Waterpond. His numb hands tingled as he fumbled with the broken sword's hilt.
He got to his feet slowly and looked around at what was left of his home. A desolate ruins. The place he had left intact and whole in the morning, only to come back in the evening and met it in smoking rubble.
Slowly he raised the broken Harbinger blade to the sky. The sword shone faintly as it caught the last ray of sunset before it vanished. He stared long and hard at it before muttering, "heavens bear me witness on this day. Mother, father, I will avenge your death. This vengeance I swear by the gods."
Oath of Vengeance: Revenge is in your heart, death in your hand, blood and retribution are hammering in your head. You have one leg on land and one leg in your grave. You're now following this path to acquire a hidden reward or an apparent death.
After making the oath in the light of heavens, a wolf raised a howl nearby and was answered by another.
Lindley gazed at the broken sword in his hand and shivered. It was night time, the wolves would soon be out to feed. But these were his people and he was still searching for his parents.
He gritted his teeth and snarled in the direction of the howls. After regaining himself, Lindley knew that there was nothing he could do about the destroyed village or the hungry wolves. He had to leave the village before the wolves arrived.
With a heart full of grief and vengeance, Lindley turned in the direction of the mountain and ran without looking back.
As if in a trance, he wandered through the meadow without paying attention to his surroundings. The bitterness in his heart had completely overwhelmed him. The last thing he remembered before losing consciousness, was a form of darkness falling on him from above.
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