The Broken Soldier, Part 1 - "War With The Jeyawahlens"

At dawn, we attacked. As we charged, the air was filled with the deafening sound of feet stomping against the sand and the battle cries of hundreds of warriors. Afreil was their next to me. He was one of my many sword-brothers. We had drawn our axes and held up our shields as we ran towards the enemy line.
“Daavne Rahazees!” Afreil cries in the Ancient Tongue, as do many others. The Jeyawahlens approach with their spears and curved swords, and suddenly, there is a loud clash of metal, and the battle begins. For what felt like hours, we were slaying every Jeyawahlen who dared to combat us. It appeared to be around late noon when the remaining Jeyawahlens retreated from battle. The soldiers rejoiced, thanking or praying to Yáhnirr. For the rest of that day, we rested in camp and celebrated our victory. When dusk came, Afreil and I went to our barracks to rest for the next day.

“Get up! Get up! We’re being attacked,” Afreil yelled as he shook me from my sleep.
“What,” I yelled.
“They’re burning the barracks and the supplies! Hurry, we have to put it out!” I grabbed my shield and axe and ran out with him and the other men. Jeyawahle warriors were running around with swords and torches, lighting anything flammable on fire, and killing anyone who was unarmed. I ran out looking for any Jeyawahlen with a torch to keep them from causing more damage. One ran at me from the side, his sword raised in the air.
“Eyelleh ‘eheb!” he yelled. He swung his sword down onto my shield, and I swung my axe at his head and knocked him down. More surrounded me, and I took car of most of them until something hard hit me on the back of the head. My face hit the sand, and I fell unconscious.
Once I had woken up, I was hanging by my arms from cold iron chains. My bare back was against a rough brick wall. A few other soldiers were on either side of me. Jeyawahlens were looking at us, speaking to each other in their tongue. One of them was going around and yelling at the prisoners. He spoke in the common tongue.
“I will ask you one last time,” the man said. “Your allies are going to attack Teh Kefiq. They are taking a secret route that we do not know of. Where is it?”
“I told you, I don’t know.” The prisoner was Afreil.
“Fine. If you really do not know…” He pulled out a dagger and shoved it into Afreil’s throat. “Then you are useless.” He pulled out his knife, and Afreil went silent.
“NO!” I shook violently, trying to break free. “You’ll pay for that, you bastard!”
“Oh, does this one have something to say?”
“I sure do, and listen well! I am Nörr, son of Zörr, warrior of the Stormvales, and you shall face unspeakable wrath for murdering Afreil!”
“Or, you could instead take your friend as an example and tell me your people’s plans to attack our city? Unless you so badly want to meet your friend again?” I spat at him, and he wiped it off of his face. “I would not have done that, if I were you,” he said. He drew his sword and swung at my leg. The sharp pain rang through my body, and I let out a cry. My blood began to drip to the ground. “I might take your other leg as well, just to be able to watch you crawl through the sand like a scorpion. Then, I will take both your arms, and you will slither like a pathetic serpent-” As he held the tip of his blade to my chin, he fell to the ground with an arrow through his head. The other prisoners and I turned our heads. There were cloaked figure with bows and swords that rushed in, shooting at anyone who was not a prisoner or quickly ending them with a swipe of their blades. One by one, our captors fell, and the cloaked figure freed us from out binds. One came over to me, and picked the locks on my wrist cuffs. They put my arm over their shoulder, and helped me limp out of the dungeon I was in and through the fortress. My vision started to go blurry as I lost more and more blood. My leg collapsed, and everything went black. I awaited to arrive at the gates of Divnísir.