The Land Below our Feet COMPLETE

MAVAER

Once Njál and his men got to the entrance of the silent city, it was soon clear to them that something was awfully wrong. The roads were empty, and an eerie calm floated in the air, making them feel uneasy as they progressed through the desolated city.

Contrary to the panicked opposition that they had expected from their attack, they found nothing but quiet buildings under the impassive sun as they exchanged confused looks and reached the seemingly deserted palace.

-Comb the city! – The upset ruler ordered, feeling a chill of dread run down his spine.

This was not at all what he had foreseen when he'd first envisioned marching towards this supposedly vibrant town.

After a thorough search, his men had found no more than a couple of hundred terrified souls. Most of them elderly men and women desperately hiding in the shadows of their homes.

Jakul, the Argantean´s right hand and second in command, had irrupted in the hall and thrown a decrepit old man at his feet.

-He was just sitting still in one of the rooms – His subordinate informed him – It was as if he was simply waiting for his death!

Njál´s eyes studied the impassive features of the quiet, feeble elder, his hand running pensively through his golden beard and scratching it distractedly.

-Where is others? – He brokenly asked the old man in his own language with agitation – Where is ruler?

But the wrinkled fellow remained silent, staring at him with a fearful look, his jaw clenched shut tightly as he knelt before him.

Jakul slammed the back of his weapon forcefully between the fragile prisoner’s shoulder blades, sending him tripping forward and landing on his face. Then he grabbed him by his clothing and forced him up again, aiming his weapon threateningly at his head.

-Answer! – Njál demanded with evident frustration, standing up and towering over him menacingly – Where everyone went? Where is army?

Yet the man had stood imperturbable, his eyes lost in some kind of deep, unbreakable stupor.

So Njál had slit his throat out of annoyance and let his corpse fall to the ground, his blood soon gathering under his scrawny figure.

One by one, the hostages had been brought before him, gathering around the fallen Elder's body, their horrified faces deliberately avoiding the sight of the macabre scene.

-Well? – He had yelled in exasperation – Are you telling where is all Mavaer people? Or you want dying like him?

-They are all gone – A frightened woman finally spoke with a trembling voice – King Ishtun took them all to Lowland's gate.

-We rule Lowland's gate! – The invader screeched with scorn at her statement – Why they want to go there?

-Because we were warned about your attack, and we chose not to believe it – The short, stout lady replied in tears - The older ones just chose to stay behind.

-Warned? Who did? – Njál asked with incredulity – We took city… Not possible! We conquer! We rule!

-An old woman came – Another man explained, taking a step forward – She said her grandchild was going to free Lowland´s gate. She convinced our ruler to evacuate and march there to help.

Njál could not avoid the fear that crept into his eyes when his mind started wrapping around the prisoner's words. Dread crawling down his spine as he tried to understand how such a maneuver could have been performed under his very own nose.

His crazed thoughts racing inside his brain as he pondered the possibility that the already taken coastal city could be regained by an under armed and primitive flock. An uncontrollable fury burst inside him a second later, as he unleashed his frenzy, emptying the contents of his weapon on the assembled crowd of terrified Mavaerians and a loud commotion exploded as they fruitlessly tried to escape their horrid fate.

-Kill them all! – The cruel leader had shouted out coldly, turning his back to the helpless group, before storming out the door and heading to an adjacent large terrace, his fist colliding angrily against the stone wall, while he screamed in utter wrath. The gunshots inside barely drowning his clamoring voice.

The Argantean men were already clearing the hall of the fallen bodies of their slaughtered victims when he barged inside again. His eyes darting from side to side as he tried to deduce who had betrayed him in such a deceitful way… His bloodied fist clenching tightly while he forced himself to decide what their next move should be.

- Jakul! – He called out as he spotted the massive warrior entering the hall at a rushed pace – We need to deploy a unit immediately to Lowland's gate.

-Oh yes! We must, Your Grace – The muscled warrior answered, looking worriedly at him – But first, you need to come and see this other issue that has just come our way.

The frantic man was being held down by two of his soldiers as he trashed around in complete panic, his eyes threatening to bulge out of his sockets as a stream of gibberish poured rushing out of his mouth.

It took Njál a whole minute to see past the tattered clothing and general disheveled state of the miserable human filth that sat before him, and finally recognize him as one of the warriors he had left in charge of Lowland's Gate. His eyes briefly scanning the blackened state of his clearly gangrened arm, an infected hole oozing nasty, reeking pus from his left shoulder.

-Speak! – He urged the feverish man as he tried to focus on everything but the foul smell that emanated from the poor wretch and permeated the entire room.

-He attacked us! The masked man! – The deranged soldier squealed, terror lacing his voice – He looked like us, and he spoke our language… Yet he slaughtered us with our own fire, mounted on his black demonic beast!

-Were there others like him? – The leader asked, his curiosity instantly piqued at his description.

-No! – The hysterical soldier bawled out loudly – Just him!

Heavy tears rolled down the distressed soldier's cheeks as an incomprehensible cry erupted out of his chest while he cried out in pain.

-He killed them! I heard them all die a horrible death at his hands! – The young man exclaimed, shutting his eyes closed in utter despair - He murdered Brahum in front of my very own face!

-Are you delusional? – Njál asked with disbelief – Who is this man that you fear so much? How dare you imply that a single warrior could take down an entire unit of trained, armed fighters?

-He wasn´t alone! He has an army of dark-bearded giants! – The inconsolable youngster sniffled, looking at him with mockery – And that w***e of yours! She freed the prisoners! They shot us with our own weapons! She butchered plenty of our men with the very same technique that you gladly taught her yourself!

A sparkle of ache crossed the outsider's blue eyes as the sharp edge of her deception sank deep into his heart. A couple of painful tears threatening to well from them, before he clenched his teeth and took a deep breath, regaining his composure.

-Why did he let you go? – The failing conqueror asked with genuine interest – You say he killed them all, so why would this devil of a man let you go out of other perfectly good men?

- He said I was to deliver his message – The terrified soldier trembled in horror, cold sweat running down his forehead –He burned our ships and sent me here to tell you that they are coming after us… And that this time we will no longer have the option of running back to the sea.

-And what on earth did you say to him in exchange? – Njál inquired, tilting his head menacingly at him – He spared your useless life for a reason after all.

-Nothing! I swear! – The man yelled hopelessly, desperately trying to free himself from the soldiers´ relentless grip– He already knew you were planning to take Mavaer! The girl told him! Please! Have mercy! Please!

-Put him out of his misery – The stony-hearted King ordered after stealing a last disdainful glance at him and walking away. The loud gunshot ringing in his ears a second later.