Black Star: The Rebirth

Image source: Pixabay

And finally dawn came, mercilessly, to reveal the blasphemous massacre of that night. The sulphur smell of the Flaegreian fields was blending with that of blood and entrails, while clots of death, horribly coagulated one with the other, slowly melted inside the iridescent acid water pools. There was no honour of weapons for the vanquished, whose remains were hideously smeared on the battlefield.

Instead, something else was crawling in that silent scene: the unnatural profanity of a rape, far beyond the concept of victory of one army over the other. It was as if the ground, pierced by fumaroles and teeming with mutilated bodies, wanted to shout to the sky a silent cry of faltering horror.

From the piles of corrupt meat, a black pillar emerged in the middle of the plain. An invisible and incandescent flame was emanating from that dark mountain, making the landscape all around tremulous due to the intense heat.

"I brought you some wine, Xarag." The man in armour approached cautiously to the black and immobile human tower.

"I do not find it right that you have to stay still for all this time instead of celebrating …"

"Tell me you did not come alone just with that nauseating spicy wine." Glaring through the black metal of the helmet, the paladin abruptly interrupted the officer.

"I also have the serum, Xarag. Our queen never forgets the needs of her most valiant servants"

"Oh yes, she's always so thoughtful". The sudden pain obliged the paladin to an added effort for emitting the last word, which barely came out through the bloody clenched teeth.

"Do not worry, I cannot figure out how much you suffer, Xarag, and I won’t even dare to, but I promise you that also this time, when it has cooled down, we will manage to get you out of the gift".

"The gift, of course, guard of the queen. I know you'll do a good job with that piece of meat that still sticks to my bones," the black tower murmured in a metal hiss. "Now pour the whey into the wine and then leave me. You, at least, go and celebrate."

Xarag, the Black Star, barely approached the chalice at the deformed hole of the helmet and drank avidly. His meats, slowly devoured by his own armour, produced sounds that he would never get used to. He wanted to look up from that vision of death, he wanted to look for a star in the sky, among the poisonous and sulphur fumes, but the steel colour of the abyss no longer allowed it by many battles. He wanted to think to her, if only he didn’t have to bleed for the effort of not being torn apart in his body, mind and soul at the same time. For him, the battle would have still continued in solitude for long hours.

The fires projected cheerful arabesques on the cobalt walls of the camp tents, where the unrestrained bacchanal of victory was taking place. A group of officers argued in the galley tent, away from the crowds.

"I told you they did not fight! The angel approached, and they just looked at each other for a very long time .. at least that's what I saw as long as I could," said the young man with shelled eyes to the rest of the group.

"If only I could fight one of those damned celestials simply by standing by.. Maybe even while scratching my balls.” The silly laugh of the inexperienced official interrupted in a strangled sob.

"Listen to me well, piece of dung. Just because you miraculously survived your first battle and you got good marks at the academy, do you think you gained the right to talk about the Black Star?" The veteran's arm had relentlessly triggered at the young man's throat with a ruthless grip.

"First of all, that was not just an angel, but it was one of the Powers, sent into battle directly from the third triad. Have you already forgotten the lessons on the enemy hierarchy, cutie?" The grip loosened just before the colour of the young officer passed from red to dark purple.

"Also," continued the veteran, "you can bet they were fighting, as the Power had managed to overtake the first two auras of Xarag's armour and was now attempting to force the third inner one.. "

"Disintegration of the essence." Like gnarled invisibile fingers, a murmur ran through the soldiers.

The senior officer would have continued but was interrupted by a loud disturbing roar. The immediate shock-wave overwhelmed those present and all the contents of the tent. Perhaps the battle was not completely over.

Drazen, the senior officer barked orders for the men to assume defence formation as they rushed outside. He could feel the sky pull out a premature moon from its pocket. The ground underneath them began the war chants. He could hear the men’s heart beats, pounding in sync with the roaring from the depths of the earth.

They heard a horse ride into the camp. It collapsed just before it arrived at Drazen’s feet. Drazen ran to the horse, bent and felt it. It was already dead; it was only sustained by magic to reach the camp. He approached the rider and turned him over; it was the Micah, one of the men who had gone out to search for the General’s body.

“Captain, this is no time to mourn the death of your nephew. As Captain of the First Guard, you’re the most senior officer. You are in charge. The lives of the men….” A veteran solder began, speaking the minds of the other veterans.

Drazen moved closer to examine the body, oblivious of the drone over his head. There was something at the neck, something frighteningly familiar. He had only read about them in the forbidden section of the Academy’s library. He turned the body and noticed the roughen cuts. This was neither blade nor magic. He would have conferred with the Black Star but there was no time.

“It is the Znarls, isn’t is sir? I noticed how the skin melted when your tear fell on the face”

Drazen turned to the inexperienced officer who had been observing. He had never liked his overly forwardness and confidence. But the kid was right. He had to give him that.

It happened in an instant. Large beasts with coal black fur and red glowing eyes appeared as if out of the ground. Drazen interlocked his hand with his bloodsword and rose up, severing one of the Znarls at the same time. He felt a sharp pain at his back. He turned his sword and thrust blindly. Another Znarl felt behind him but it was already too late.

Drazen fell to the ground, his eyes confirming the dying screams of his men. He wanted to fight; to preserve the life of Das, to ensure someone could ride home to warn the Queen. It was all too late. He heard a Znarl charge at him. His limbs paralysed by the venom, he closed his eyes and waited. All he heard was a loud shriek. He opened them to see Xarag with a dripping sword.

“Someone must survive!” Xarag moaned as if the words tore through his throat as he spoke, his sword arm swishing and thrusting. He then bent to cut his wrist with his sword and put the tear to Drazen’s lips.

Four hours later, the injured Black Star banged at the city gates. It was Drazen.

This is my entry for the Finish the Story Contest - WEEK #20 by @f3nix