Year 640
Boots made crunching noise on the forest's underbrush as I tramped toward the commotion. Another hair-raising shriek caused my heart thump wildly and my leather boots to lose footing and slip. Brushing dirt from my face, I pivoted my body around trees; I held my cloak in one hand to keep it from dragging and snaring on nature.
There! A splatter of blood soaked the tree bark, like an evil disturbance on the forest's natural beauty. As I hurried on, the blood was thicker, shinier- signs of a struggle all over the trees and growth. I saw bodies strewn everywhere on the dirt. Axe wounds, sword gashes, arrows jutting from heads, chests, and vital spots in general. I tried not to retch- the reek and scene of death was appalling.
A yell echoed and faded. I quickened my pace to the point where I broke a sweat and my lungs screamed for a rest. I wasn't meant for this, I wasn't a mercenary priest or any kind of position like that. I was a simple healer living with his parents, that's all.
Nothing special. Not at all.
I slowed to a stop and clasped a tree trunk, heaving and gasping for air. Blood painted the heart of the forest like a flood. Dead corpses decorated the forest floor, thrown into piles by survivors- if there were any. Weapons dyed crimson were left abandoned.
I heard clip-clop of hooves through the ghastly stillness. Louder and louder they became, like the heart ramming into my chest.
Was it someone to slay me? A man whose curiosity took the better of his mind? And now, a man who wanted to cure the wounded and innocent?
No- it was a woman mounted upon a stunningly white stallion. Clad in professional silver armor reflecting the sun's afternoon rays, she held the horse's reins in one arm and awkwardly hugged the steed's neck with the other. She bent over the mount as though she were injured, radiant, long red braid dangling over her shoulder. The evidence of a fight was upon her: like the forest, she too was tainted with blood, on hair, armor, weapons…
The horse clopped slowly toward me, but came to a stop ten paces or so away as the knight tugged the reins tiredly. Then, she slid off her mount with excruciating pain and fell to the ground in a crumpled heap. I ran toward the woman, knelt by her side, and flipped her over very gently.
Emeralds gazed at amber as the woman gasped for breath. Her wounds were fatal; I could identify gashes and slashes from axes and swords from face to torso, leg to foot, bleeding profusely. Her hands trembled as she reached to touch my own pale and sickly.
Pulling a stave from the sleeves of my long cloak, I started a silent healing rhyme in my mind. She only batted an eyelid as I held my stave before her eyes.
Blessed Goddess of Light
Lend a priest thy healing might
The woman's flame of life began to flicker, her breaths fewer, and her heart slowing…
Use it I shall only to cure
With power so precious and pure
Glimmering, wavering…dimming…
Her eyes were sealing, her breaths were stopping. She mouthed silent words at me, like a plea or question…
Was this death waiting patiently to happen? To squeeze the life from its victim?
Let me tend to one with pain so real
May my hands bring comfort to heal.
Fighting, murder, dying.
Was death the wound of war?
Hey there! I want to thank you for reading the first chapter of Fire Emblem: War Wounds. It's my first piece here on FanFiction.
I'd appreciate any critique you have, as long as you do it politely. Thanks!
Anyway, this story starts a bit...gorey. I'm sure you've figured out who our main protagonist is already. XD He's such a sweetheart.
Also, I'd love to read your reviews on this. I'm a bit anxious...
-Purge