The Way of Kings Prologue
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calik rounded a rocky stone ridge and stumbled to a stop before the body of a dying thunder classed the enormous stone beast lay on its side, rib like protrusions from its chest, broken and cracked. The monstrosity was vaguely skeletal and shape, with unnaturally long limbs that sprouted from granite shoulders. The eyes were deep red spots on the arrowhead face as if created by a fire burning deep within the stone. They faded even after all these centuries, seeing a thunder classed up close made collection. Ever. The beast's hands was as long as a man was tall. He'd been killed by hands like this before, and hadn't been pleasant. Of course, dying rarely was he rounded the creature, picking his way more carefully across the battlefield. The plane was a place of misshapen rock and stone. Natural pillars rising around him bodies littering the ground. Few plants lived here. The stone ridges and mounds bore numerous scars, some were shattered, blasted out sections where surge binders had fought less frequently he passed cracked oddly shaped Hollows, where thunder classes had ripped themselves free of the stone to join the fray. Many of the bodies around him were human. Many were not blood mixed red orange violet, though none of the bodies around them stirred, and indistinct haze of sounds hung in the air, moans of pain, cries of grief. They do not seem like the sounds of victory. Smoke curled from the occasional patches of growth, or heaps of burning corpses. Even some sections of rock smoldered. The dust Brinker's had done their work well. But I survived, calik thought hand to breast as he hastened to the meeting place. I actually survived this time. That was dangerous. When he died, he was sent back. No choice. When he survived the desolation, he was supposed to go back as well back to that place, where he dreaded back to that place of pain and fire. What if he just decided not to go perilous thoughts? Perhaps traitorous thoughts? He hastened on his way. The place of meeting was in the shadow of a large rock formation, a spire rising into the sky. As always the 10 of them had decided upon it before the battle. The survivors would make their way here oddly. Only one of the others was waiting for him. Jazz Rian Had the eight other died. It was possible the battle had been so furious this time one of the worst. The enemy was growing increasingly tenacious, but no alec frowned as he stepped up to the base of the spire. Seven magnificent swords stood proudly here, driven point first into the stone ground, each with a masterly work of art, flowing and design and scribed with glyphs and patterns. He recognized each one. If their masters had died, the blades would have vanished. These blades were weapons of power beyond even shard blades. These were unique. Precious Ezrin stood outside the ring of swords looking eastward. Geoffrion. The figure in white and blue glanced toward them even after all these centuries and looked so young, Like a man barely into his 30th year. His short black beard was neatly trimmed though his once fine clothing was scorched and stained with blood. He folded his arms behind his back as he turned to collect what is this? Just ruin, calik asked. Where are the others? Departed man's voice was calm, deep, regal. Though he hadn't worn a crown in centuries. His royal manner lingered. He always seemed to know what to do. You might call it a miracle! Only one of us died this time. Talent, Kallick said his was the only blade unaccounted for. Yes, he died holding that passage by the Northern Waterway, CAlik nodded. Tom had a tendency to choose seemingly hopeless fights and win them. He also had a tendency to die in the process. He would be back now in the place where they went between desolation, the place of nightmares, calik found himself shaking. When did you become so weak, Jeffrey and I can't return this time. Kallick whispered the words, stepping up and gripping the other man's arm. I can't calik felt something within a break at the admission. How long had it been centuries? Perhaps millennia of torture? It was so hard to keep track those fires, those hooks digging into his flesh and new each day, searing the skin off his arm. Then bearing the fat, then driving to the bone, he could smell it almighty, he could smell it, leave your sword, jasmine said what, Jeffrey nodded to the ring of weapons. I was chosen to wait for you. We weren't certain if you had survived. A decision has been made, It is time for the oath pack to end! Calik felt a sharp stab of horror. What will that do, Shar believes that so long as there is one of us still bound to the earth packed, it may be enough. There is a chance we might end the cycle of desolation. Calik looked into the immortal king's eyes. Black smoke rose from a small patch to their left groans of the dying haunted them from behind their injury, and eyes collect, saw anguish and grief, perhaps even cowardice. This is a man hanging from a cliff by a thread, Almighty above catholic thought. You're broken too, aren't you? They all were cal turned and walked to the side where a low ridge overlooked part of the battlefield. There were so many corpses, and among them walked the living men in primitive wraps, carrying spears topped by bronze heads juxtaposed between them were others in gleaming plate armor. One group walked past four men in the ragged, tanned skins or shoddy leather, joining a powerful figure in beautiful silver plate, amazingly intricate. Such a contrast. Jesus man stepped up beside them. They see us as divinities, Kallick whispered. They rely upon us just all that they have there. The radiance. There will be enough, cal, shook his head. He will not remain bound by this. The enemy. He'll find a way around it, you know. He will. Perhaps the king of heralds offered no further explanation and tone, Kellogg asked. The flesh burning. The fires. The pain over and over and over. Better that one man should suffer than 10 jasmine whispered. He seemed so cold, like a shadow caused by heat and light falling on someone honorable and true, casting this black imitation behind. Geoffrion walked back to the ring of swords, His own blade formed in his hands, appearing from mist wet with condensation. It has been decided we will go our ways and we will not seek out one another. Our blades must be left the Earth pack ends now. He shifted his sword and rammed it into the stone with the other seven. Ezrin hesitated, looking at the sword, then bowed his head and turned away, as if ashamed we chose this burden willingly. Well, we can choose to drop it if we wish. What do we tell the people just calik asked. What will they say of this day? It's simple, said, walking away, we told them that they finally won. It's an easy enough lie. Who knows, maybe it will turn out to be true alec watched grand depart across the burned landscape. Finally he summoned his own blade, slammed it into the stone beside the other eight. He turned and walked in the direction opposite from, and yet he could not help. But glancing back at the ring of swords and a single open slot, The place where the 10th sword should have gone. The one of them who was lost, the one they had abandoned, forgive us, catholic thought, then left.