Call of The Lost

The Shadow's Fade (Rave Prologue)

"Sir Rave," cries a voice. Waking slowly I begin to shake off the fog of sleep. Sir Rave, cries the voice again. I open my eyes slowly wincing at the torchlight. I glance to the entrance of my tent at the young boy and grunt.

"What is it boy?"

The boy whimpering slightly almost whispers, "The Lord-Commander wants you at the War Council immediately,"

Scowling, I dress quickly in my armor then grab Soul-shard off a chair. As I walk through the camp, some of the men nod at me. Quickly I make way to the command tent and stride inside. In a deadpan voice I address The Commander of the Lejemord warband.

"What do you want from me Robert, it's not even dawn," Glancing up quickly he points at a young noble wearing a silver crown.

"Prince Alex de Grandtonia, M'Lord I didn't know you were here," I say bowing slightly.

Robert speaks quickly, "The Prince has asked us to carry out a sortie on the castle tomorrow. The siege has gone on long enough, by midday I want that castle."

Speaking slowly I address the Prince, "M'Lord with current numbers we will lose too many men on a frontal assault, something I'd assumed the army has given up on. Furthermo-,"

"Nonsense," cried The Prince, "I'm sure you can achieve it. You have 5 thousand of the finest mercenaries in the world. I'm sure you can come up with something."

Turning abruptly he walks out the tent leaving me and Robert alone. "Raven," Robert starts, "I know you have a plan to get in the castle. I know what you are, and how you think. You must have a plan?" He says hopefully.

"Of course I do," I snapped. "It would only cost the lives of some 800 men at least and that's assuming we're able to get in the fort."

Robert, cutting me off, shouts, "Then I'll give you a thousand men! One thousand lives to take the castle! With the rest waiting to storm the castle if you succeed!"

Snarling, I storm out of the tent and hiss at a guard,"Get me the Assault Company!" Prowling to my tent I begin strapping on my black armor. The pitted and scarred brigandine has saved my life countless times. It would do so again. I stroke the Raven on the pauldrons, a reminder. Picking my pavise, Ravenheart, off the ground and knocking the clods of earth off its steel spike.

I step outside and I see the men forming ranks. I pace slowly like a predator stalking for the slightest sign of fear or hesitation in those who meet my gaze. Good they are confident. Walking forward, we enter the tree line. Where is it? Every rat's nest has an escape route. Spotting a clearing, I instruct the men to lift the large stone in the center. The stone revealed stairs leading down into the darkness. Lighting torches, I lead the men underground; The dank air of the tunnel nearly gags me. We walk hundreds of feet until we find an old rusted grate. I ease forward and wrap my hands around each bar and slowly shove open the grate. The old iron splintered due to poor maintenance. I wave the men forward while reaching a wooden door. Hearing voices, I signal for silence. I slowly press my ear against the door. It must be early morning by now as I can hear the cooks starting up ovens. Footsteps approach the door and I ease Soul-shard out of its sheath. As the door opens, a cook goes to throw wastewater into the sewer. Dragging him forward, I bury Soul-shard in his throat, blood spewing out of his mouth.

An anguished cry bubbles forth, "GORE AND GLORY!" I howl as I surge forward, charging past the shocked cooks into the mead-hall, hacking at stupefied soldiers. I can hear the clashing of swords and screams of the men who will soon join the ranks of the dead. The frenzy begins to claim me as I bury Ravenheart in someone's chest, leaving it there I charge forward clashing with an armored behemoth. He lunges forward with his sword, the blade tearing through my left arm, steel scraping bone. Stepping back quickly I throw a lance of fire into his visor. He screams loud and long as he struggles to pull off his helmet, skin blistering, eyes roasting in his now blackened skull. Stalking forward I sever his head.