Smoke filled the ebony night sky, the stars blinking dully, trying to find their way through the thick air. The grass below was trodden and flooded with dark blood. It splattered upon the backs of the horse's legs. Occasionally it would hit a boot or two, staining it with a deep crimson. A loud whinny sounded as a warning as an arrow whizzed past the animal, throwing its rider off balance. His lips produced a terrified scream as another frightened beast trampled him. A flame hissed across the Parqador plains, cutting off a group of armor clad men. Turning their steeds hastily, the cluster of soldiers frantically tried to escape the flames in vain.

From atop a powerful horse, a man garbed in gray yelled orders, his pink face gleaming with sweat. His eyes were barbaric and filled with evil. All he wanted was control and the only way he could get it was to capture the southern Parqador fort.

The fort had been a possession of the dwarves a while back, using it for trading with the humans and elves. But as the times passed, and talk of the lost heirs of Nurzahan began bubbling up again, a few groups decided to shut themselves away. The fort was also an excellent stronghold, for it was uphill and a deep trench ringed the outer walls. It was nearly impossible for a man on horseback to get through unless they climbed a rope. Even then, they'd be cut quick enough before the attacker reached the top.

But the fort didn't start this fight. Many little groups had been formed over the rumor about Nurzahan, but there were two main ones. The leader of the first was Gailhod and he wanted to turn it into a dictatorship, and then eventually take over the rest of the neighboring countries. His following plan was to then execute power-bearing people. Special bloodlines, powers, and other oddities were going to be killed off so the world would be as it should, with out the entire nuisance of powerful beings. All men need to be equal in every way they could be. The strange thing was, Galihod was a special blooded heir. Himself being handed down through grandparents, third cousins, and other relatives that he had never known had been the heirs of Nurzahan, but not directly. He was one of the few who could command special objects through his Nurzahan blood, and one of them was the Shadow stone.

Some of the men turned around to face the fire while the cowards fled into the desert. Brandishing his heavy onyx blade, the man hollered like a wild animal. Then he rode into the licking red flames.

On the other side of the flames men were desperately trying to fight back the stream of soldiers through the break in the fire. Their green uniforms were torn to pieces, like rags hanging on to the skinny bones of a beggar. A broad man, who was clearly in the lead, motioned to his dying army consisting of mostly elves and men. Half of them split off to the right to where a weathered, cracked fortress stood. Ivy was loosely draped about its walls, the dark green blending in with the dark gray of the rock. The other half of the soldiers galloped to the left towards the desert, cutting off pusillanimous men running towards its heated death trap. Many thought dying of thirst was better than dying from a slaughtering sword, but none of them considered whether it was cowardly to do so rather than be a brave hero and choose the blade.

The two leaders cantered towards each other, green meeting gray. A clear clink rang out across the meadow as their swords clashed, each man's eyes filled with a loathing determination. The man clad in gray sliced the other on the top of the shoulder, not quite deep enough for it to slice all the way through. Falling from his saddle, the other hit the ground hard and rolled a few paces before getting up on one knee.

"Surrender the fort, Galihod. This is your last chance." Said the man, getting up from the ground. Galihod cackled as he dismounted, striding towards him. The flame behind him hid all the sights and smells of the battle, coating the backdrop in yellow, orange, and red.

"Not in your life time, Maefik, which is going to be real short real soon. Just give it up, the dwarves don't want to help you anyway."

Holding his breath, Maefik picked up his sword and held it in ready position. "They don't want to become your allies either." Then as graceful as a dove and as lethal as poison, Maefik whacked the blade across his chin and hacked the sword into Galihod's side, yanking it out after the man fell to the ground.

Hastily he ripped off a piece of his sleeve and bound his arm. Before Maefik could turn away, he felt a clammy hand grip his ankle.

"Just tell me," sputtered Galihod as blood leaked from his mouth, "where the Shadow stone is and I'll give it up…you can have the fortress."

Maefik glanced down at his opponent with disgust. "Never. No country deserves you as their tyrant." He snarled, kicking the man's hand off his ankle. Maefik then mounted his horse and galloped off into the North. Galihod's cruel words still reached his ears though, the pitiful cries and curses he sent off into the thick, smoke-filled, night air.

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