Fire of the Soul - Prologue

{c}Prologue: Dividing Souls{/u}

There she was: watching, waiting. We all knew she could feel our presence – we were like flies on a giant dragon to her. She knew we were there yet she stayed in her place; she was not scared. And why should she be? I saw with my own eyes the things she had done – the destruction she unleashed upon this world – and she knew exactly what was going to happen. Remaining still, her ruby eyes focused on one thing: the temple’s shrine.

I crept further into my hiding place, careful not to make any extra noise. My dark leather clothes tugged on me, asking me to rise. I rested on my hunkers, the weight of the leather armour and the sword strapped on my hip beginning to strain my calves. She was there, not moving though all these soldiers surrounded her. She ran her long hands down the black coat which covered most of her body. This was something I had seen before – too many times for my liking; for my conscience – and knew what was about to ensue. “Come from your hiding places!”

My head darted to the left, my thick fair hair bouncing as it span, seeing one of my fellow soldier’s eyes light up with fear. The massive, mighty voice of the woman seemed to linger in the air, driving into our bodies and embedding terror deep within everyone’s bones. The woman flicked her long, silky fire-crimson hair that reached down to her backside. Her expression (one of complete sternness) remained the same. Her very presence in the room seemed to darken it, the small amount of light coming from the stained-glass windows dimming.

I looked around the giant statue, seeing identical ones across the hall from me. There, the soldiers were doing exactly the same, peering around the marble figure of a woman wrapped in a single sheet. We all crouched down so that her long, luxurious hair reached us. The woman with the crimson hair turned with lightning-like speed. Facing one of the statues further down the line, her eyes widened as she saw a single man standing on his own.

Clenching one of her black leather gloved hands, fire circled around it in a shape of a ball the size of two fists. With the same lightning speed, she raised her hand and launched the fireball. It soared through the air with a swiftness which rivalled the markswoman, until it collided with the marble statue. It exploded in a flurry of flames. Tiny pieces of marble – the only remnants of that once magnificent carving – flew across the temples marble flooring alight with her power.

In response to this, all the soldiers (a mix of men and women alike) sped from their hiding places, swords clenched in their hands. They circled her, the same expression on all of their faces. Small, tall, broad or skinny: all these soldiers were shivering in unison, united by fear. Even the captain fled from the ambush position, holding the silver broadsword so that it didn’t scrap along the floor. He wore chainmail instead of our leather, with the crest of Dinsda (a large gold oak tree) painted onto it. Only I stayed hidden, feet glued in place. I wanted to run out with them, to help them before it was too late, but I couldn’t move. It was as if my legs resisted with all its strength to not attack.

“You are under arrest through My Lord Derresa’s holy decree. Come peacefully or we shall take you by force,” the captain, who spoke with such authority that my legs nearly unstuck, shouted at the woman.

She looked at either side, examining the soldiers, before returning to the captain. “Holy? Ha, your master is a fool. Take me, I dare you!” She bellowed again, causing all the soldiers to recoil slightly.

My tanned hands dropped down to my sword, as the woman ran her hands down her black coat again. They stopped where brown-leather trousers meet her brown-leather top. It was time.

“I shall gave you one final chance: come or be taken.” The woman’s confidence affected the captain: I could hear his voice waver slightly. Even though he knew what she was capable of, he expected our numbers – and our history, for she knew who we were as much as we knew who she was - to frighten her a bit. At least a bit.

“Foolish, arrogant human!” She flicked her long, lush, flame red hair.

Using that magnificent rapidness, her long, slender hands burst into her coat. Five of the men ran forward first, raising their swords to attack. The woman merely span around, unleashing her devastating weapon that tore apart the people that dared to attack. A long, deadly lash flew from its curled hiding place, the spikes that smothered it tearing through the leather armour with ease. The soldiers fell to the floor, covered in blood. In the woman’s hand she held a whip that floated in mid-air, the hilt carved in the shape of a dragon. The dragon’s mouth opened up to the long spiked lash. The soldiers took a step back, glaring at her half-heartedly. The other half of their heart eyed up the old wooden doors.

My mouth opened to scream but no sound arrived. I could do nothing but watch as the people I had been with since enlisting into the army were torn apart. Attacking like a dancer, she twirled and flipped until the lash ripped across all of the soldiers. Those knowing there was no escape leapt forward but were caught by the devastating weapon before they could come within a few metres close to attack-distance. In a matter of seconds, the floor was sprawled with blood and littered with bodies.

This just left the captain and I. He managed to block some of the attacks (there were a few cuts in his chainmail) though was still there in one piece.

“Private! What are you waiting for? Attack her!” The captain sped forward, hilt gripped firmly in his hands.

My mouth remained dropped; my feet kept still. All I could do was watch this scene unfold. The woman continued to dance, bringing the end of the whip crashing down on him. Deflecting it with his blade, he skidded forward, swinging the grand blade with such force that it looked like he could break through the air. However, the woman jumped into the air, dancing while floating, the whip coming down for another time. Instead of a head-on attack, it wrapped around the broadsword. Tugging on it one final time, the sword split in two.

Like a lightning bolt, she appeared behind him, twirling her wrists to launch the whip. It wrapped around his legs, lifting him up into the air. She kept him floating for awhile, allowing him to stare at her with pure horror, until flinging him into the pillar. The captain smashed against it, before falling to the ground.

“Give that message to your Lord, and see if he will grant you some of his holy strength.” She then turned to me, lifting her hands. “You will live Recar.”

My legs finally gave way, making me tumble to the ground. The captain squirmed, rotating towards the woman. “What... a... are you...?” he muttered, blood spilling out from all different places on his body. I stood there, hand raised, mouth open.

“Something far beyond your comprehension,” her attention moved to me again. “You are but a private? You are capable of far greater things. The ignorance of these people shall not affect you anymore.” My body began to quiver – her eyes were so penetrating that I felt my very soul cowering at the very sight of this woman.

She began to stroll away. I closed my eyes, calling forth every particle of energy in my body in order to say anything. “Ellia! Why have you done this?” I blurted out, finally gathering enough courage to speak again.

“It was for the best. It is what your father would have wanted.” She moved again, walking up the stairs that lead towards the altar. “Do not follow me for I may have to kill you. Leave the army for if your life is wasted, many more shall die.”

I didn’t follow her up the stairs. I just watched Ellia go away and find whatever she was looking for. Only the captain knew and, for all I could tell, h e was dead-

“P... Private.... Come...” The captain called so I briskly walked to him. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a battered, blood-dampened parchment. “Take... Protect... Leave me...” He held the brown paper forward. I stared at it for awhile, eyebrow unintentionally raised, before looking back to the captain. He had grown completely pale, with his body shaking as the liquids drained out of his body.

Grabbing the paper, I jumped to my feet. I ran from the temple doors, not daring to look back until I was outside of them. Stood in the giant church, standing by the altar, was Ellia. Ellia with her body ignited in flames.