Falling Ivory: Chapter 1

         

         “Why do we have to guard these convoys?” complained the guard, “Its not like anyone would dare attack the Ivoric Empire.” He wiped the sweat that beaded up on his forehead. The convoy had stopped in a particularly lush, swampy area. Between the suffocating sumer humidy of the forrest and the heat given off by the flickering embers of the campfire, even the hardest of troops wished for greener pastures.

         “I mean the last time that there was an open hostility towards the Empire was over 200 years ago.” his squad-mate agreed, as he slapped an annoying misquito that had tried to make a meal of his leg. "I mean is it even nessicary to have a full platoon of guards?" This whining was common, but tended to be ignored by commanding officers.

          “DO YOU HAVE ANYTHING ELSE TO SAY?” came from behind the guards. Their legs shaking, the two patrolling guards swallowed simultaneously and quickly glanced at each other. They had been caught red-handed and forced themselves to turn around to face the monster of a Corporal behind them.

         The stuff of nightmares, Corporal Verdt towered over the average man by nearly a head and a half, his long jet black hair pulled into a perfect ponytail without a single hair out of place. His eyes slowly scanned the pathetic duo in an unnerving pattern; looking through the pair, rather than at them. The patrolling guards shivered as the juggernaut strode towards them with terrifying speed. Each step the Corporal took caused a flinch in both of the guards, as they prepared themselves for what was to come next; as Corporal Verdt had a reputation of slightly exaggerating claims in his court martial reports.

          “What do you think I should do with you two?” the corporal whispered. One of the two guards only managed to stammer out an incoherent stream of syllables, while the other stood silent paralyzed by fear. “Because I think I heard talk of desertion,” he continued, “and do you know what the punishment for desertion is?”

         The two guards shook their heads no. “Well it just so happens that....” he paused as he felt a sudden and intense pain in his neck. Instantly his hands shot up to the location of the pain to find a wooden shaft embedded in his flesh. He tumbled forward, hitting the ground with a dull thud. The two guards stared numbly at the corpse in front of them. And before they could register what had just happened two more arrows found their mark in the chests of the two guards.

                                                       

         Perched from his vantage point high in the trees, Markar had easily spotted the convoy's camp site. Due to the Icebound Treaty, Vikal forces were no longer allowed to raid Ivoric lands. The extended peace between the kingdoms had caused a lack of protection assigned to the caravans. This allowed Markar to easily steal whatever he pleased. So long as he avoided drawing too much attention to himself, Markar could stay in the same area for months without raising more than an eyebrow.

         Markar grabbed a nearby tree branch about the size of his wrist, gave it a hard tug to test it's strength, and leaped off his perch. His hands instinctively grabbed the branch, holding it only a fraction of a second to control his rapid descent. Making sure to take note of other limbs as he fell with dizzying speed, Markar repeated the process of quickly grabbing branches to guide himself safely to the ground. Hitting the ground harder than he would have liked, Markar fell into an expertly executed roll over his shoulder to diffuse the energy from the fall. He made a quick check with the stars to reorient himself, and took off towards the convoy he was stalking through the forest.