|Dark General (standard:fantasy, 1130 words)|
|Author: Salamander||Added: Oct 04 2000||Views/Reads: 2242/1130||Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)|
|Part 1 of the Dragonlands saga, more Canor and Silvire! Mostly about Canor and Silvire getting more of a bridge between them, if you can call it that.|
The silence raged on. The two sides were neatly lined up. Each was staring at the other, holding their weapons, preparing for battle. Canor finally knew what was going on in these mortal battles. Ever since King Rindheart had died with no heirs, the massive kingdom had split apart into hundreds of nations. Each nation’s size was determined only by military power. In this case, one of the sides was a young upstart nation called the Dragonlands. The current ruler was a warlord at heart, known as Raging Glory. He had a fierce streak of pride for his little nation, but a far more powerful one had risen to crush it. The other side was from Bleak, a land of tundra and ice. All the soldiers wore gleaming white armor. On their own turf, it was an incredible advantage. Here, in the forests of the Dragonlands, the soldiers were an obvious target. Their ruler was known only as Darkling, and he was not here. The fight had begun when Raging Glory had sent raiders to pillage outer villages in Bleak. When Bleak forces had made no attempt to locate the raiders, a few diplomats came to sway the people away from the “heartless evil” of Bleak. The outer villages were either abandoned or declared Dragonlands territory. Darkling made no response. Finally, when several military outposts sprouted around the capital of Whiteness, Bleak struck back. Before the Dragonlands army knew what hit them, all the outposts had been annihilated, and a third of the Dragonlands cities were massacred. The buildings were used as troop bases, warehouses, and torture areas. Some said Darkling himself tortured the dwellers of these hellish places with spiked red-hot pokers. Bleak never denied it. This battle was the last stand for the Dragonlands. These few remaining troops were all that Raging Glory could muster. RG himself was there, shouting defiance at the general of the white troops. The troops defending the Dragonlands were a complete hodge-podge mishmash of equipment. Some had horses and plate armor, others had only robes and daggers. “What do you want from us?” yelled RG. “We want your land and your life. With luck, snow can fall here as well.” The opposing general’s voice was very cold and soft. By contrast, RG sounded like a huge horn, blowing away with all his might. “We don’t want your snow and your evil!” RG’s words were echoed by some of his troops. “There is no such thing as evil. You must all die, to my little regret, for our own way has been blessed by the gods.” Canor was disturbed. There was something familiar about that voice. “No, you are just another oppressor of freedom!” A stir followed his words. Canor realized, now. RG was raising his troops into a battle frenzy. “True. We aren’t blessed. But we are a nightmare.” Canor was sure now. He had heard that voice somewhere...Where? Otherland? No, that couldn’t be right. “You’re all demons!” A roar came, and all of the Dragonlands’ defenders bristled with anger, ready to crush the vile (at least, from their perspective) enemy who stood in front of them. “Don’t accuse my troops of such a fate. They are just as normal as you and your comrades. More normal than the one who is hiding in the trees, surely.” The white armor turned to face Canor, but looked back. Nobody else could see him... So why had this general? Canor noticed with a shudder that the face was not visible inside the helmet. “I, however, may be called a demon. At least, that’s your biased opinion.” “Who are you?” RG didn’t speak so strongly now. “General Silvire.” Bleak troops instantly surged forwards at the now Click here to read the rest of this story (66 more lines)
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