The Red Undertow

The cold wind blasted against the cliff tops, ripping into the scraggly grasses growing there, as waves frothed at the cliff base. The man stood with his face tilted downwards against the lashing rain. His long black hair hung in greasy cords to his almost to his waist. A thick but well worn and battered bear pelt hung from his shoulders. The small hailstones mixed in with the rain made small pinging noises on his breastplate. At the sounds of shouting behind him, barely discernable in the chilled and damp air, he lifted his face upwards. It was a well defined face marked by a scar on his left cheek which moved on to cover the left side of his throat. His eyes were tinged the deep green of ferns on a forest floor, while his skin was well tanned. A small beard covered his chin where it seemed to offset his thick black eyebrows. My work is never done it seems. Ah once more into the fray.
"Sir, come quickly!"
As he lifted his eyes from the roaring waters, Almar rolled his shoulders to loosen his stiffened muscles. He returned the battered long sword in his hand to its sheath on his back and turned on leaden feet to face the fire lit castle and the man now making his way quickly towards him.
"What is it?" he asked, "I asked Borsaiul to finish up. Is that to hard a task for him?"
The messenger cringed slightly at the flat tone as he felt the power of those dark green eyes settle bore into his. "No, Sir …. but …. the Princes forces have … barricaded themselves in his wing…. and they seem to … have a magiar with them…" he panted, "he is no kleiner either Sir."
Almar started to move back the way the messenger had come leaving the man to follow behind him. "Did you inform Srefqyal of this set back?"
"No Sir. Borsaiul said to inform you first." The messenger replied as he struggled to keep up. "He has set a guard on the only entrance to the wing and has the Burned Lady with him." As he said the last name the messenger saw his commander stiffen for a second. No it couldn't be. I must be more tired than I thought.
"I want you to assemble my Mannschaftskräfte and tell them to meet me at the entrance of the wing. Then tell Srefqyal that I am almost finished taking the castle and that he can enter as he pleases." I hope he is pleased because if he isn't …
"Aye Sir," the messenger replied, "I will see to it right away." The messenger moved off the trail and visibly forced himself to increase his pace until he was quickly moving past his commander towards the castle. And here I though it would be a simple task, well that's what I get for joining this section. I wanted to be part of the best, well now I am.
As he watched the messenger make his way past him, Almar studied the man and tried to remember his name. Insa… Insra… Insark. A good man it seems, I should discuss it with Borsaiul. A shred of a shiver shot its way up his spine, though it did not show on his face. She will be there, she always is. The boiling began in his stomach but he pushed it down.
As he passed through the castle gates he saw the kicked in door of the guard room within which the guards were scattered around like rag dolls. He paused and looked at their glassy eyes and their shocked faces. Only one grizzled face was calm, as he studied the man Almar noticed without emotion that he had been the only one who had had time to draw his sword. The plan had been well executed and he himself had led this section. Drawing his face towards the keep he continued walking. He passed a half a dozen more corpses, their yellow tunics stained with their blood and the air thick with the stench of loosed bowls and fear. As he came closer to the large double doors of the inner keep he paused and looked out at the sky. A blue patch had opened in the clouds and he stared intently at it. Then he started as a group of six men wandered towards him from the tower beside the gate. Not his men. They must be Srefqyal's and that means he is coming now. Blast it! He turned towards them. "The last wing is not yet finished."
"Well then you better hurry." One of the men said with a sneer, revealing a mouthful of black teeth, "The Lord will be here soon, we will wait here and tell him of your company's incompetence."
"I would watch myself if I were you," Almar said in a low voice. Struggling to contain his anger he continued on, "such disrespect often comes back to haunt you."
"Are you threatening me?" The man's grin had vanished, replaced by a flushed face with tightly locked lips. "Do you know who I am? Who are you to threaten me?"
"I am Almar mae Ka'zole, Second commander of the Mannschaftkräfte and member if the Order of Tryqus," he said moving slowly to stand before the man, while looking straight into his eyes. "And who are you to show me such disrespect."
The man blanched and stepped back a step closely followed by his comrades, all arrogance gone form their faces. "Forgive me, Sir. I did not recognize you."
Almar turned and started on his way through the inner doors towards the left wing of the castle ignoring the salutes from the six men. No more than I deserve for being the youngest officer in this business. Father would have been impressed with my control although I doubt he would have said so. Thinking of his father brought back memories of his childhood in Erdasbar. A small town high in the Selguirch Mountains were life passed by at a slower pace. There had been a Colloguem there and it had been widely known, for many Meister had come to study and teach there. Then the Rarlds came. Shutting off this line of thought he focused on putting one foot in front of the other. He could hear Borsaiul's voice from here and as he turned the last corner he heard a female voice answer. He froze in mid-step, mentally shook himself, and continued forward keeping his face impassive.
"Almar, there you are. What took you so long?" Borsaiul with his ruddy cheeks and small stature did not have the look of a soldier but he had one of the sharpest minds in Deneholl. The Burned Lady, as she was known to all but her closest associates, stood beside him. She was slim and very shapely even though most of her body was hidden with a wolf skin cloak. Her dark brown hair washed down her back to her shoulder blades and her serene face studied Almar with a seeming indifferent expression.
Almar shrugged his shoulders slightly as he came to stand next to the pair. "I was held up at the gate."
"Well the magiar is keeping us from the doors by some sort of force field. Ainigel says she cannot break through it without your help and that even as we speak he is starting a larger ritual."
"It is as he says." Ainigel said softly while idly playing with the red lining of her cloak. Then she looked piercingly at Almar locking onto him with her gaze. "You look tired; perhaps I should wait until Fredirst comes up with the main force."
"No. I am fine." Almar said in a more harsh tone than he intended. Her eyes, which were green with gold flecks surrounding the iris, widened fractionally. Focus! "I am alright." He repeated.
"Alright well then we best get going," Borsaiul broke in with a quick voice looking sharply at Almar. "Are you both ready?"
No. "Yes I am."
"I am as well" Ainigel looked at Borsaiul with a small smile. "What has you all flustered dear?"
Borsaiul flushed under her gaze and then turned towards the shimmering wall five paces down the hall. "Nothing, love, nothing. You can begin when you're ready."
Almar closed his eyes and sought out his power and found it almost immediately. He barely had time to close off his personal feelings and memories before he felt The Burned Lady's mind join with his. 'You know I hate being called that Almar, I have a name and one I happen to like.' Ainigel thought to him with amusement tingeing her speech.
'I know I am sorry. Are you ready to pierce this wall?'
'I am'
'Together then.'
Almar felt her power and channelled his own to meet it. Then they turned mentally to face the shimmering wall, which he could see with his inner eye. As they released their power Almar caught a fleeting image of Ainigels face in his mind and felt a stab of pain.
'Is there something you are hiding from me? Your mind is closed to me.' 'It is nothing. A mere loose thought nothing more.' Almar thought as he struggled to keep the shield between their minds in place while at the same time channelling his power towards the wall. Their joined minds conjured a spear of fire that threw itself towards the wall. Just before it reached it ---
'Almar, his ritual, it is unravelling! Save yourself!' Her thoughts screamed in his head as he felt her struggle to untangle her power from his. 'Almar he is…'
Almar shrieked as pain worse than anything he had ever experienced ripped through his body. Red-hot iron needles were pushing their way into his skin; he was suffocating under a river of ice even as he tried to withdraw his power back into himself. Finally after what seemed like an eternity he managed to throw a shield over himself, which although torn to shreds in moments, bought enough time for him to retreat within himself. What… was his last though before he sank into unconsciousness.
Years flew backwards as he saw himself on the streets of Girgoth… the recruiters capture of him, as he was dragged kicking and screaming to their camp… his first years with Meister Telsida and Ryro Flesheater … His appointment to command … the images were coming faster now and had began to swirl in a whirlpool before his eyes revolving into a face and a hand that had just hit him hard enough to leave a stinging even in his woozy state. As he focused on the face he started. I have never seen this face before… Where am I? The face withdrew and he heard a voice yelling something in a language he couldn't understand. The loud noise caused him to wince but before he had recovered he was hoisted into the air by a pair of large hands.
"Aclura de alNd." A deep voice said as a large red-bearded face pushed its way forward to block the sunlight.