The Western Devastation

19th Zaranthyr 998 YK: The Western Devastation

Well here goes. I'll start with my first tour all the way back in 983 YK.
 
I was 11 years old the first time I went on tour with Dylis. There wasn’t anyone I trusted more than them, they were the father I never knew. I always thought nothing could go wrong with them nearby, they were infallible.
 
We were stationed on the border with Thrane, somewhere in the north near Eston. It had been pretty quiet for days; perhaps in hindsight too quiet. Dylis had received word from other Border Sentinels that there hadn’t been any raids in some time; that put the Purple Stalkers on edge, they were jumping at the slightest noises or movement within the trees. I didn’t understand what all the fuss was over; I had thought this posting would be exciting! Full of action! I wish I had been wrong about that.
 
Occasionally Dylis would take me out on patrol with them. I don’t remember much from them anymore, though I remember the excitement I felt any time Dylis would call me up, or the joy I felt getting away from the mundanity of the camp where day after day Dylis would run drills with me. Ensure that I stuck to my routine: wake up at dawn, wash, dress, eat, clean my weapon, drill till midday, repeat. I’m thankful Dol Arrah or Dol Dorn were working guiding Dylis through those months - I owe my life to the discipline I learned.
The Glistening Tide
I had gotten used to the routine of camp life, and a large part of me wished to be back home in Maplevale but, that was not to be at least for sometime. On the 10th Nymm 983 YK, I was with Dylis and Owain patrolling around the camp and watching the border. We were approaching our overwatch of Angwar Keep when we Owain called for a halt and pressed his ear to the ground. As I stood there, expecting the all clear to come through as had happened so often before, I began to feel it in my feet.
 
The ground was shaking.
 
It was slight at first but, as we stood there silently listening, it grew far more noticeable. Before long a deep thumping sound began to pick up. Dylis broke the silence, stating we needed to push forward and find the source of the noise. The pulse of what I thought must have been some small earth-quake, steadily grew in intensity as we moved - assaulting my senses and before long with every pulse a wave of anxiety washed through me. For the first time I had been out here any desire for excitement, for action had evaporated; leaving only the residue of fear and apprehension that slowly coalesced into a harsh chill running down my spine.
 
Upon reaching our overwatch of Scions Sound, the realisation of the situation we now found ourselves began to dawn. Thousands upon thousands of soldiers on horseback or otherwise were making their way across the waters, with thousands more already ashore. Their breastplates and weapons glistened in the midday sun making it seem almost as if the river had grown double its size.
 
The shock to my system was too much for the moment, I remember thinking I was in a dream or hallucinating - it couldn’t have been possible for so many to be in a single place.
 
My stupor was broken with a jolt as Dylis ran to me and shook me. He was speaking quickly, too much of what he said slipped my mind; I caught only the last sentence: “...run, warn who you can, stay with Owain. Do you understand Terfel? Stay. With. Him. I will catch up when I can.” With his final word, Owain grabbed my arm and began dragging me back the way we came.

Terrors in the Dark

The sounds of footsteps marching, of hooves beating the ground, was nearly deafening by this point. They were moving quickly whoever they were. Before long we were dodging the forward vanguard and their scouting parties; slowing is to an almost negligible speed.
 
By the time we reached the camp it had been overrun, though it seemed many of the Purple Stalkers were able to evade the marauding troops. Split into small groups, like we were, meant we wouldn’t stand a chance if caught out in the open - but it gave us a fighting chance of escaping with our lives. I was exhausted; barely able to keep pace with Owain who seemed a heartbeat away from just leaving me behind.
 
He liked to talk to himself. Muttering under his breath. Often about how fucked we were, but every so often it was about where we were going. Owain had never been the best tracker and without anyone else here he was struggling to find his bearings. There was a rally point around 2 miles north of the camp; a shallow cave system hidden beneath a small lake. I gathered this is where we were meant to head.
 
Night had fallen as we waited, watching the camp. Hoping to catch a glimpse of anyone we knew, with no luck. Owain muttered some small prayers to Dol Arrah before we set off to try and find the rally point. I don’t think I have ever been as scared as I was over the next few hours as we searched around in the dark; Owain was always pushing ahead, never slowing his pace. I was terrified I would be left behind. A few times I very nearly was, I dug deep though, I just managed to keep up with him.
 
Hours went by, wandering in the dark stumbling across patrols and the camps of the hordes that had massed within the forest. The anxiety of what would happen if we were caught never ceased. It weighed on me like I had an anvil in my stomach. I teetered on the edge of control; there were a few times I recall feeling a heat growing in my face and attempting to stem the growing flow of tears. It was a time like this that we heard the sounds of clashing metal and grunts.
 
We moved quickly toward the sounds to find the rally point and a small scouting party that had been engaged by what seemed like the majority of the Purple Stalkers. We circled the group as quickly as we could, getting behind the enemy. Owain looked me up and down, picking up my shortsword and placing it into the proper guard position before grunting and nodding… “Don’t die little one.” He charged into the fray - I stood frozen watching the ensuing fight.
 
It surprised me, at how quickly it ended the arrival of Owain caused the small party to think they had bitten off more than they could handle. One of them charged in my direction, attempting to flee.
 
My feet were stone - they refused to listen.
 
Barreling into me, we both went flying to the ground. She recovered quickly taking hold of her axe tightly, turning upon me ready to fight. I panicked, trying to remember my drills and scrambled to find my sword. Just as I did, picking myself up on my feet, she began her assault. She must have been dazed somewhat, her attacks were hectic - but it was all I could do to just barely fend her off. I remember the tears streaming down my face as I weakly blocked and dodged her attacks. In a matter of seconds she had knocked me backwards, disarming me in the process; holding her axe ready to cut my throat.
 
She stood over me, her face full of wild rage, breathing heavily. It was a harrowing sight to see her expression gently soften into shame; the sadness that filled her hazel eyes as she stared down at me.
 
A sharp whistle sounded out from behind her; she twisted her body to look as a javelin bore through her neck, and dropped with a thud next to me.
 
Her eyes have haunted me ever since… the noise of it. I wish I could have known her.
 
Dylis steadily made his way to me from the darkness, picking me up covered in her blood. “You’re alright now boy. Come.”

An Imposters Celebration

We joined up with the remaining Purple Stalkers who had dispatched the remaining Thrane soldiers. Dylis informed us of the gravity of the situation. Eston had been besieged. With little we could do, or hope that the siege of Eston could be broken, Dylis decided we were to move northward and try to get to Swoz, get the word out about the attack.
 
We moved with relative ease northward since the legions of Thrane held, securing the region immediately around Eston. The siege ended quickly, but not before we were able to link up with a small contingent of the Cyran military led by General Alvos Brillik.
Dylis decided I had seen all the war I needed for the moment, and kept me within Swoz away from anymore fights.
 
The Stalkers showered me with praise for what I “did”. Dylis even introduced me to General Alvos as the boy who bravely fought against the tyranny of Thrane. All I felt was apprehension - the shame of being the cause of her death. I had earned none of the praise placed on my shoulders.
 
Today I can say with confidence that I did as well as could be expected for a boy of 12 years… not even time will dampen the regret I feel whenever I close my eyes.
 
I hope you found comfort with your Silver Flame.