A Spark in the Wind

Chapter 02: Into the Wilderness

As Vilyánur spurred his horse, his riders followed him alongside the wood-elven warriors, retracing their steps back to the site of the crash. Just as they had suspected, the corruption was spreading. The forests were dying and wildlife leaving as the aura of the meteor spread.

"There you go," said Vil, "feast your eyes upon the truth yourself."

Seeing the meteor, the forest-folk had their eyes open in horror. "So that was the truth all along."

"I was right to put my faith in you," said Mey with a smile, "now what do we do?"

"Report to the king," said an elf in the back.

"Very well," replied Mey, "let us go to Silverhearth, albeit it's a long journey."

Vil nodded, following the wood-elves to their capital. At least now our cries will not go hollow, thought Vil. Had he not been as strong-minded as he was trained to be, he'd have abandoned his folk and lunged at Meneldir with an open heart, embracing the friend he had not seen for a year.

"Remind me again, how does a chaos meteor correlate to an attack like this?"

"It was a chaos meteor – a living embodiment of chaos energies."

"Yeah, so?"

"So . . . as it spreads its corruption, all beings living and non-living around it are marked by its taint, a panther might have come too close and gone mad, thereof attacking the traveller."

"Oh, now I see," said Mey, "you have experience with these?"

"I and my friends were deployed in a colony by the deserts of Vaerolia, that is where I learned the effect these meteors have: they can convert entire swathes of land into chaos-wastes, turning every tribe it encounters into a servant of the Dark Gods."

"That sounds ominous, and do you think this could be the herald of . . . something darker?"

"I am unsure, it is common for meteors like these to fall randomly, albeit at times the result of such strikes is a daemonic invasion..." their blood went cold, "...but do not fret, that is but rare, and happens only when the chaos generated overwhelms the world."

"You have a lot of knowledge about things like these, Vil," said Mey.

"Of course, as it would be expected of me."

"I hope this ends here, it would be a shame if we were attacked by daemons now," Mey said with a strange emphasis, almost as if hinting at something.

Vilyánur looked at him and smiled mischievously, "you're right, I hope for the same."

"So . . . what do we do if demo-" Meneldir was interrupted by a fell creek, drawing him to alert. As he looked around, he felt an enemy nearing him – "ambush!" he screamed unsheathing his sword.

The scowling voice reverberated about the trees; something foul was headed towards them. Though it sounded nowhere as threatening, it made many an elf's blood run cold in their veins, freezing as if grasped by the skeletal fingers of winter.

"Brace yourselves!" shouted a knight.

...

Then from the shadows a wolf attacked: a big black beast as large as a pony. A wolf-rider lunged back, grasping the beast in the air and commencing a ballad of fang and claw.

Two wolves behind barked and growled, their eyes neon green and fur as black as night – they were not natural. The archers lobbed a volley at them, but their arrows nimble and cheap glanced off like the wind.