The Messenger, part 1
Running comes easy to me. At least it used to be like that. Part of being a soldier is running circles in full body armor around the walls of the city, your trusty weapon and shield by your side. But for me it wasn’t simply part of the training; it was the best part. I like the adrenaline rush, the resistance that my legs give as I push them more and more, my heart pumping at ever faster rate, my lungs expanding to the limits.
And I can outrun my peers easily, I’m the fastest in the entire regiment. And that’s the main reason why I am in the current situation. Running not only for mine, but for the lives of thousands. I am running for ten miles already, unarmored, barefoot. Ten miles is a milestone, the mark when my body no longer cares it’s running, and just surrenders to my will.
I can cover three times that, and more. And I had done it, many times. The only obstacle can be boredom. I’ve found that once my mind wins the battle against the rebellious organs, it reverts to the trivialities of everyday life in order to keep itself occupied. And thoughts about the boring guard duty I’m due for the following week will start to invade, or about the state of disrepair the western city gate is in, how tomatoe prizes were too high in winter, how low cut was the barmaid’s shirt… And then all those thoughts would just overwhelm me until I want to do anything else.
But the times when tomatoes and barmaid’s tits were my only concerns seemed like ages ago. War, as I found out, tended to be like that, embellishing the most banal thoughts in dark overtones, smearing them in shit. What was a fun aerobic activity, now was a matter of life and death. And not only for me.
For the whole Kingdom.
I am carrying a message from General Jakov straight to the King. I have no idea what is it that I’m carrying, some kind of stone or something, but I don’t care. If I’m not supposed to know, then I don’t want to know. I am a soldier, and I will carry it even if the road erodes my legs and feet.
Considering what hell I’m running away from, I know it is urgent, highly confidential, and of utmost importance. General Jakov needn’t spell that out for me, but he did anyway. Choosing me was the only logical thing. I am the fastest he has. Well, a horse is surely faster, but a horse is a luxury now that the enemy had managed to dispose of every single one.
My stomach still churns at the thought of the heaps of decaying horses. They were all dead in the first two days of the battle at Bergtur, and for the next month, or the entire length of the siege, we all had to keep up with the stench of rotting horses on top of everything else. We couldn’t even use them for food, as the medics were afraid the poison could linger in the corpses.
At least if they were used for food, maybe we could had some chance of turning the tide, or hold off until the other armies consolidated. But blister beetles were not the only weapon the enemy used - there were the cockroaches, and the damn filthy bastards ate most of our food supplies. And then they found the horses, and multiplied to unseen extent. In the last days, the fight was as much outside as it was inside the city walls, the town’s one Veshter was simply not enough to fight the pests on top of everything else.
So we had to evacuate, and retreat to the fort high in the mountain, leaving the town to the mercy of the enemy. And the enemy was merciless, for the transformation of the occupied cities is something that is too horrid to talk about.
While retreating, the scouts up in the mountains reported that they saw no armies whatsoever, and it became obvious that the rest of the King’s forces were identically occupied on all fronts. There was no victory in sight, regrouping and defending the capital was the last resort. And surely that was a part of the message I am carrying.
The town of Wegrand was just appearing on the horizon. Which means I’m now well past the fifteenth mile, and thus past feeling fatigue. My feet are bruised and battered, but I can bear the pain. The roads are well kept; even in these dire times the Kingdom kept its infrastructure tight. ‘The road to prosperity is a well-paved one’ was King Malakir’s famous quote. King Simon diligently followed that tradition, the Ascendants bless him.
This well-paved road led to Wegrand, the town that lies halfway between Bergtur, and the capital. As I take a sip from the waterskin tied to my belt, I’m grateful the morning sun wasn’t strong enough to heat the contents. Something that will surely change once I reach the city, when my precious water will turn into bland tea. It makes me appreciate the refreshment more.
I’m now entering Wegrand. It is still early, the sun just shyly peeking from the treetops. Few people are on the fields, even fewer notice the strange man running like mad. Those who did, follow me with their gazes, but never utter anything. After all, I’m wearing the Royal Crest on my shirt, a sign that said I’m not to be in anyway disturbed, under penalty of law.
It was strange to see Wegrand almost serene, untouched by the horrors just fifteen miles behind. It has to do with the fact that the war hadn’t lasted that long. Only four months had passed since the enemy attacked, and in four months they managed to get this far. It was unbelievable, and to a land that had known peace for almost a century, inconceivable. Even with all the news of disease, massacres and terrible transformations of the land, the minds of the people that haven’t experienced the horrors themselves were slow to adapt even to the thought of such inhumanities.
And here my mind, where in the days before this madness would take me to thoughts of food and sex, now took me back to the first days of my stationing in Bergrur.
And I can outrun my peers easily, I’m the fastest in the entire regiment. And that’s the main reason why I am in the current situation. Running not only for mine, but for the lives of thousands. I am running for ten miles already, unarmored, barefoot. Ten miles is a milestone, the mark when my body no longer cares it’s running, and just surrenders to my will.
I can cover three times that, and more. And I had done it, many times. The only obstacle can be boredom. I’ve found that once my mind wins the battle against the rebellious organs, it reverts to the trivialities of everyday life in order to keep itself occupied. And thoughts about the boring guard duty I’m due for the following week will start to invade, or about the state of disrepair the western city gate is in, how tomatoe prizes were too high in winter, how low cut was the barmaid’s shirt… And then all those thoughts would just overwhelm me until I want to do anything else.
But the times when tomatoes and barmaid’s tits were my only concerns seemed like ages ago. War, as I found out, tended to be like that, embellishing the most banal thoughts in dark overtones, smearing them in shit. What was a fun aerobic activity, now was a matter of life and death. And not only for me.
For the whole Kingdom.
I am carrying a message from General Jakov straight to the King. I have no idea what is it that I’m carrying, some kind of stone or something, but I don’t care. If I’m not supposed to know, then I don’t want to know. I am a soldier, and I will carry it even if the road erodes my legs and feet.
Considering what hell I’m running away from, I know it is urgent, highly confidential, and of utmost importance. General Jakov needn’t spell that out for me, but he did anyway. Choosing me was the only logical thing. I am the fastest he has. Well, a horse is surely faster, but a horse is a luxury now that the enemy had managed to dispose of every single one.
My stomach still churns at the thought of the heaps of decaying horses. They were all dead in the first two days of the battle at Bergtur, and for the next month, or the entire length of the siege, we all had to keep up with the stench of rotting horses on top of everything else. We couldn’t even use them for food, as the medics were afraid the poison could linger in the corpses.
At least if they were used for food, maybe we could had some chance of turning the tide, or hold off until the other armies consolidated. But blister beetles were not the only weapon the enemy used - there were the cockroaches, and the damn filthy bastards ate most of our food supplies. And then they found the horses, and multiplied to unseen extent. In the last days, the fight was as much outside as it was inside the city walls, the town’s one Veshter was simply not enough to fight the pests on top of everything else.
So we had to evacuate, and retreat to the fort high in the mountain, leaving the town to the mercy of the enemy. And the enemy was merciless, for the transformation of the occupied cities is something that is too horrid to talk about.
While retreating, the scouts up in the mountains reported that they saw no armies whatsoever, and it became obvious that the rest of the King’s forces were identically occupied on all fronts. There was no victory in sight, regrouping and defending the capital was the last resort. And surely that was a part of the message I am carrying.
The town of Wegrand was just appearing on the horizon. Which means I’m now well past the fifteenth mile, and thus past feeling fatigue. My feet are bruised and battered, but I can bear the pain. The roads are well kept; even in these dire times the Kingdom kept its infrastructure tight. ‘The road to prosperity is a well-paved one’ was King Malakir’s famous quote. King Simon diligently followed that tradition, the Ascendants bless him.
This well-paved road led to Wegrand, the town that lies halfway between Bergtur, and the capital. As I take a sip from the waterskin tied to my belt, I’m grateful the morning sun wasn’t strong enough to heat the contents. Something that will surely change once I reach the city, when my precious water will turn into bland tea. It makes me appreciate the refreshment more.
I’m now entering Wegrand. It is still early, the sun just shyly peeking from the treetops. Few people are on the fields, even fewer notice the strange man running like mad. Those who did, follow me with their gazes, but never utter anything. After all, I’m wearing the Royal Crest on my shirt, a sign that said I’m not to be in anyway disturbed, under penalty of law.
It was strange to see Wegrand almost serene, untouched by the horrors just fifteen miles behind. It has to do with the fact that the war hadn’t lasted that long. Only four months had passed since the enemy attacked, and in four months they managed to get this far. It was unbelievable, and to a land that had known peace for almost a century, inconceivable. Even with all the news of disease, massacres and terrible transformations of the land, the minds of the people that haven’t experienced the horrors themselves were slow to adapt even to the thought of such inhumanities.
And here my mind, where in the days before this madness would take me to thoughts of food and sex, now took me back to the first days of my stationing in Bergrur.
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