Heal

         A sparrow, black as night, soared over a large evergreen forest. A blur of green and brown covered the vision of the sparrow, it’s dark eyes taking in the vast landscape. Many insects could be seen and heard from this far up, flying just below the sparrow, or clinging to a tree, hiding from their individual predators. A slow wind blew from the north, carrying with it the cold air of the Northern Mountains. They could be seen in the distance, surrounded by a lazy mist that swirled around it’s base and peak. The sparrow, using the wind for its advantage, flew south, away from the Mighty Mountains.
         
         As it flew, the trees started to thin, revealing the brown forest floor below. Dead pines littered the floor, creating the most interesting layout of color. Dark brown, green, light green, light brown, all formed the floor in which the evergreen giants stood. Roots, once covered by the canopy of the evergreens, could now be seen, snaking above the ground, only to disappear again. The thinning continued, until there was no forest left to fly over.

         Rearing up before the sparrow, lines upon lines of humans stood just in front of the forest’s edge. Hundreds of archers stood in neat ten by ten blocks, stationed behind thousands of foot infantry. Hundreds of flags could be heard snapping in the wind, each identifying the house in which the patron had originated.

         Young Seferis, a Healer of the Glorious Legion, stood by his fellow healers near the back of the army, watching a sparrow fly overhead. It circled the area above their heads once or twice, before continuing it’s way southward, out of his view.

         “Bloody cold day today, eh Seferis?” whispered a healer stationed next to him.

         The healer’s name was Tiris, a long-time friend of Seferis. Both had gone through training together, each enduring the same hardships and trails that the Glorious Legion placed upon them. There was a strong bond between them both. They were an odd pair, considering that Seferis was more shy and reserved, while Tiris was boisterous and loud. However, these differences seemed to bring them closer together, creating a friendship that could never be broken.

         Seferis nodded solemnly. It was too cold to talk. This didn’t stop Tiris, however.

         “Uh-huh, sure is. Hope those filthy swine over there freeze. But then, what would be the fun in that? Having to fight frozen statues doesn’t require much skill, I’m afraid. Still, it would save us the trouble of having to wipe them all out, eh?” He gave a slight chuckle, smiling at his own joke.

         Seferis gave a weak grin, which faded quickly as a blast of cold air hit his face. Tiris took everything as a joke. Didn’t he know that men would die today? Men that had families at home, waiting anxiously for news about their beloved? Didn’t he know that there was a good chance that he, and Seferis, for that matter, would die today on this frozen battlefield? Seferis doubted that the obvious could slide past his friend, but one could never tell...

         Suddenly, a horn, far off in the distance, blasted through the frozen air. It reverberated off the trees, creating an eerie echo that seemed to hang in the air, even after the sound had faded. Another blast, higher pitched this time, followed the first. Men started to look at each other nervously. That sound could only mean one thing: the time had come.

         “‘Bout bloody time too, I’m freezing my ass off out here,” said Tiris, doing a slight jig to warm his body and to get the blood flowing.

         “This is it, lads!” Yelled a man, sporting a large gray beard, not quite hiding the many scars that covered his face. He was Sub-General Silir, a very hard man, chipped and beaten by the Legion into the finest piece of military leadership that the Legion had ever known. That is, besides King Aden, of course. He was the mastermind behind this battle, taking the fight away from the poor-folk and townspeople, who were defenseless against such an invasion.

         Sub-General Silir paced in front of the entire Legion, bellowing words of encouragement to all those who listened. Even the back corner of the line could hear him, his voice carrying through the cold air easily.

         “My fellow soldiers; my fellow friends. Today is the day in which you separate yourselves from the common townsfolk-- who are, at this moment, in their homes, completely dependent on you for their safety. Today, you decide your fate; will you be a hero? Or will you cower in fear, shaming yourself and the Legion with your selfishness? Be brave, for bravery is all you have out here. Give no mercy, because you shall receive none. Keep your mind sharp. Use common sense and don’t go after the first thing you see. Besides that, don’t get yourselves killed. Now lets kill some Trila!” A roar of approval shattered the tranquility of the cold air. Birds burst from the trees, spooked by the loud sound.

         The Trila were a nomadic mega-nation, bound to take over any and all civilizations that they encountered. Their homeland was located to the far east, past the Batherith Ocean. It is said that they have highly sensitive noses, capable of smelling live meat from five leagues away. That would explain their aptness for finding new civilizations. Wherever they came from, and for whatever reason, they were here now. A hill separated them from their enemy, blocking the Legion’s view. No one knew what they looked like.

         Another horn trumpeted, this time from Seferis’s side. It was time to get ready for death.

         “Healers!” Yelled Thun, the Arch-Healer of the Legion. “Ready yourselves!”

         One by one, the Healers closed their eyes. Seferis did the same, slowing his heartbeat down, and tuning out all the outside noises, until all that was left was a peaceful quietness. In his mind, Seferis was at peace. Nothing could bother him in his solitude. Nothing could penetrate the absolute stillness that he now rested in.

         Thuh-thump

         Nothing could move him. He was floating in a tranquil ocean, surrounded by a cushion of warm air.                                                                                                    

         Thuh-thump

         He was cradled in his mother’s arms, wrapped in a warm blanket.

         Thuh-thump                                        

         Like he was taught during training, Seferis concentrated his entire being into a single point. Light suddenly leapt into existence, dancing around in his consciousness, swirling gently in and out of his vision. Colors were intermixed with each other, glowing like the sun, but as captivating and brilliant as a rainbow.

         Thuh-thump

         He reluctantly started to retreat from this place of solitude, bringing with him the dancing light. He had to concentrate even harder now. He had to be the light. It had to corse through his veins like blood. Slowly he could start to feel again. First his toes, cold and frostbitten. Then his limbs, ears, nose, and eyelids succumbed to the cold. Finally he opened his eyes, letting out a sad sigh as he did so.

         A brilliant flash of light caused him to squint. Every soldier, every man that now stood in front of him, shown like the sun. An aura of pure white surrounded them. Seferis had never seen so many in one place before, and it saddened him that many would be darkened. Life pulsed throughout each aura, glowing brightly, even with the sun above their heads. Nothing could overpower a Life Aura, not the strongest mage nor the most complex machine. A Life Aura was the essence of life, of free will, of love, hate, anger, and sadness. They surrounded every living thing, including the animals and insects. A faint glow could be seen emanating from the forest. A brighter ball could be seen in a large evergreen, on the other side of the battlefield.

         Probably some sort of squirrel.

         The Auras could become confusing at times, especially when you were using them as a healing guide. Sometimes an Aura would look as strong as a humans’, only to find out that it was a bee’s nest. Training helped to weed out most of the distractions, but no one could truly get rid of them all.

         A glance over at Tiris showed that he was also squinting, trying to get his eyes to adjust to the bright light. He noticed Seferis looking.

         Cracking a slight smile, he said, “Might as well be night. It’s like another sun out here!” Seferis just nodded. Tiris opened his eyes wide, making the adjusting time quicker, but for the price of pain. But they didn’t have time to wait. Before doing the same, Seferis caught a glimpse of Tiris’s iris. Like all the other Healers, it slowly swirled with light, a perpetual stew-pot of color, constantly being stirred.

         A brief flash of pain, and then he could see. What he saw wasn’t promising.

         Seferis must have missed the order, because the first ranks of soldiers, followed closely by a couple squadrons of archers, slowly progressed forward. The gentle hill was all that stood between them and the Trila. Hills always involved a greater loss of life. Their auras were bright as they moved in unison. Oh how he wished that they could live on, shining brightly until their time had come!

         The foot soldiers reached the base of the hill, slowing down because of the slope. Like ants, they made their way up. The Auras seemed to pulse with anxiety. A path of beaten grass followed the soldiers up the hill, a path seemingly beckoning all to follow. General Silir stood at the front of the main force, watching the troops climb the hill. It didn’t take long for the troops to reach the top.

         The front rank made it to the crest. Then they stopped. Taken aback, the following ranks collided with the first, almost knocking them over. The clash of metal on metal could be heard faintly in the distance. A questioning murmur rippled throughout the ranks.

         Then one of the troops from the front rank walked forward, seeming to peer down the hill towards the enemy. He looked left, right, then left again. Suddenly, with a burst of speed that Seferis had never seen before, he turned tail and started to run back towards the main group.

         Something was wrong.

         The rest of the ranks followed suit, wildly running down the hill, bowling over the confused archers. A muffled yell rose from the soldiers. Seferis was nervous.

         A horn called out, filling the air around Seferis. His blood turned to ice. The horn wasn’t the Legion’s, and yet it seemed to come from nearby. Suddenly, the woods to the back of the Legion trumpeted forward the sounds of hundreds of horns. Seferis’s stomach started to do back flips.

         “Turn around!” General Silir screamed, but it was too late. The trap had been set, and the Legion was not prepared. A glance over his shoulder confirmed the unthinkable.                    

         The trees shook violently as the feet of thousands of creatures stomped the earth. Yells laced with gnarls and growls came streaming out of the forest. Birds quickly made for the air above the tree tops, escaping the inevitable disaster that was soon befall the Legion. It would have been beautiful, under different circumstances. Yet war was never beautiful.

         Already the leftover foot soldiers were streaming past Seferis, bearing wild eyes full of fear. But he knew it wouldn’t be enough. Already shadows were beginning to form, disappearing between the trees. It wouldn’t be long now. A soldier stationed himself in front of Seferis, blocking his view from the forests edge. His sword was drawn, and he was breathing deeply. A quick glance to the left showed that the rest of the Healers had their own bodyguards as well. It was a desperate attempt to keep them alive. Their auras pulsed.                                        

         From over the soldier’s shoulder, the shadows in the trees finally formed into recognizable figures. But these things weren’t anything that Seferis had seen before, nor did he ever want to see.

         Straight out of a nightmare, the creatures advanced. The eyes were the first things that he noticed. Glowing and glaring, yellow, orange, red, and stark white spheres bounced through the darkness of the forest. They glared in the direction of the Legion, hate rooting their enemies to the ground. The soldier in front of Seferis stiffened. The faces were human, in nature, but nothing that looked like that could be truly human. Their skin was painted a deep red, covered in white markings that wound their way up their face. Horns that resembled rams sprouted out of the head, curling into nasty swirls until they stopped, pointing in the direction they faced. These were also covered in red, but the unmistakable deep red of blood. An aura residue hung over their horns, glowing faintly. A huge body, that which has seen many battles and has been scared for eternity, followed the head. Huge muscles bulged throughout, but the arms were the biggest. Huge logs of muscle flexed and rippled as the beasts drove head on through the forest. Some had teeth, jagged and forbidding, protruding from their mouths. Each carried a snarl, almost reminiscent of a smirk, creating a picture that these creatures enjoyed the fear they caused. 

         They passed through the edge of the forest. Nothing was between Seferis and the invading army, save for one foot soldier. 

         A high pitched whistle briefly filled the air. The soldier that guarded Seferis grunted, bent over, and rolled to the ground, a red arrow protruding from his heart. But Seferis already knew he was dead. His aura had suddenly been snuffed out, like a candle, no longer emanating a warm glow. Only darkness surrounded the man.

         Hundreds of arrows came whizzing out of the forest from unseen foes. Down the line soldiers and healers fell, more than one arrow hitting any one person. An angry buzz filled the air as the arrows flew. Auras winked out of existence as the hand of death passed over them. Red lines filled Seferis’s vision. Panic gripped him.

         “Seferis!” yelled a voice. “Dammit, Seferis! Snap out of it! We need to get out of here!” Someone grabbed his arm, snapping him out of his death trance. The arrows had slowed, giving room for the Trila foot soldiers to proceed. They bounded out of the forest, long scimitars raised in the air, twinkling from the sun.

         Seferis turned and saw Tiris. Without waiting for a reply, Tiris pulled Seferis with him, through the ranks of foot soldiers that swarmed toward their deaths. An arrow whizzed past Seferis, cutting his cheek and burring itself into a foot soldier’s chest. His aura wavered, but didn’t blink out. Seferis pulled against Tiris, trying to get to the dying man. But Tiris held on.

         “We don’t have time!” he yelled.

         “But he’s dying!” Seferis pulled harder, unconsciously dodging an arrow as he moved.

         “And so will you if you don’t quit it!”

         He was right, and Seferis knew it.

         With a final glance over his shoulder, Seferis turned and concentrated on weaving through the mass of soldiers. Screams could be heard from behind. Soldiers bumped and jostled him as he fled, which is what it really was, fleeing, but in any army Healers were highly regarded and were encouraged to run if they felt they were in danger. The few soldiers that would also turn tail and ran, however, would face harsh punishment and severe humiliation. It didn’t make Seferis feel any better, though. It was his duty to help those that could not help themselves. He was blatantly ignoring his morals, which were covered with a thick layer of fear that seemed to grow as he ran.

         They ran for what seemed forever, an almost endless torrent of men crashing past. The arrows had seemed to stop, but when Seferis thought about why, it made his stomach twist. Too many men were in the way, blocking the arrows...

         Suddenly the throng thinned, and they were standing in the open expanse, only a few straggling soldiers running past. They were both tired, and each carried their own minor injuries. Seferis’ cloak had many holes ripped into it, dotted with his own blood. At least, he thought it was his own blood. The memory of the soldier who had given his life for him came crashing back, a hundred needles of pure pain and guilt sent straight to his heart. He fell to his knees, tears streaming unbidden down his face. Tiris was yelling at him again, but he couldn’t discern what he said. The face of the unknown soldier floated in front of his mind. A face of a man who had children at home. A man who would be mourned after by family, friends, and his children. A man who he was too late to save.

         The sharp sound of a horn cut through his self induced trance. The sounds of battle quickly filled his ears; screams, growls, and the sound of steel on steel flooded his mind. They had to get away.

         “... and if we don’t move now, we’re gonna be killed! You hear me, you deaf ox!” Tiris was screaming. Seferis looked up at his long time friend. He had as many holes and blood stains as he did. A huge gash, oozing with blood, ran from his left ear to the corner of his mouth. It would have been a simple heal, but both of them were drained from their sprint.

         Seferis rose from his knees, or more correctly, shoved to his knees.

         “Like lifting a tree...” Tiris mumbled. As soon as he was up, he turned, perhaps wanting to see the direction of the battle, or maybe as a sort of penance for running as so many men were injured. For a second he stared at a blurry mass of red and brown, then his eyes focused and he couldn’t help but give a start.

         An ant swarm of Trila poured out of the forest. Misshapen bodies with contorted heads that only faintly resembled that of a humans crashed through the sparse thicket of bushes towards the defending line of the Glorious Legion. It was impossible to tell for sure, but it looked as if the Legion outnumbered the Trila at least five to one. Yet, as Seferis watched, soldiers were falling like flies under the vicious onslaught. There was no way this battle would be won. No way that any would survive. The Legion kept moving forward at an alarming pace, never truly pushing the Trila back, only stalling them with their life.

         Seferis turned to Tiris, who was staring, open mouthed, at the scene before him. Making a conscious effort not to look at the battle again, Seferis took his friend by the arm and turned him around. Tiris stared past him for a few seconds before his eyes focused and stared into Seferis’ eyes.

         “This battle is lost,” he stated glumly. Seferis just nodded.

         After a pause, he said, “But there is more that can be done.” Tiris pointed up the hill, toward the distant city of Athland. “We must warn the King. If we can’t fight, we must run, but might as well run to a place that will benefit us all. If we don’t warn the kingdom of the appending attack...” He left the sentence in the air. “ I think we may be the only ones left after this battle.”

         The last was said with both fear and sadness. Seferis, though upset to admit it, was scared. His friend was right. By the look of the battle, everyone would be slaughtered. It wasn’t a habit of the Trila to take prisoners, unless for food.

         The fear of being captured and killed by the Trila sealed Seferis’s decision.

         “We must go quickly if we are to make it in time. Let us hope we are not spotted before we are out of site.”

         Tiris nodded, with earnest this time. Both friends turned towards the slight slope in front of them. Their journey would take them over many dangers, but They climbed it quickly, disappearing over the crest, blocking their view from the horror or war.

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

         Commander Grig’Oc, magnificent leader of the Trila Invasion Force, leaned against a tree, surveying the beautiful carnage that lay before him. His army moved about the bodies of the humans, stabbing them in the stomach, making sure each and everyone of them was dead. The smell of fresh meat siphoned through his nostrils. A magnificent meal this would provide his army with. A feast for a flawless victory.

         Out of the corner of his eye, the Commander saw two Trila supporting an old and bleeding human. As they approached, the Commander stiffened, turning towards the captive. The Trila threw the half-dead man to the ground, quickly saluting and bowing. The Commander ignored them, focusing instead on the injured man before him.

         The human had both his legs broken, so he could not run, and many scars that covered his face. A quick glance at his attire told him that this man was a high ranking soldier, if not a General. Perfect.

         Grig’Oc drew the curved scimitar from his scabbard that hung from his waste, placing the blade under the chin of the human. A slight lift of his wrist, and he was staring into the hateful eyes of the man.

         “Well well, looks like Grig’Oc has a prize tonight. What are you called, human?”

         To fast to catch, the man quickly spit at the Commander’s face. “You don’t deserve life as much as you don’t deserve my name, you scum!” In a flash the Commander struck with his off hand, causing the man to fall to the ground. As the man started to groan, a high voice spoke from behind.

         “Sir!”

         A glance over his shoulder showed a foot soldier, blood leaking out of a wound to his temple.

         “What is it?”

         “Sir, message from General Folk’Sha. He wishes to relay that his men witnessed two soldiers, possibly healers, running towards the human capitol of Athland. He wishes to know what course of action to take.”

         The human had managed to raise himself to his knees.

         “Ha, you bloody rotting fools. My men are already on their way to warn of this loss. You shall never win this kingdom! You shall never concur our land! Go back to your flaming hell you came from, you bloody mutated...!” With speed like a viper, the Commander neatly and calmly cut through the man’s neck with his sword. The man’s eyes widened for an instant, before his body fell to his side, his head rolling a few feet away. The Commander, looking almost surprised to see blood on his sword, calmly leaned down to wipe his blade on the now headless body.

         “It seems,” he said to the body, “that we have a chase on our hands.” He turned his head towards the messenger. “Tell the General to pursue at high speed. We must catch these fools before they tell of our strength. Go now.” The soldier bowed and saluted, then quickly disappeared through the thousands of Trila littering the battlefield.

         The Commander turned towards the head of the human, its lifeless eyes staring blankly back at him.

         “Must we play these games?” He whispered, but the head didn’t respond.