Time just wasn't on his side.
His tattered body stiff, unmoving. His breath still, caught. His thoughts running, unyielding. Never did he expect this, of all things he could predict.
The battle was lost, completely one-sided. A valley of death, stretching beyond the eyes. The stagnant scent of blood wafted throughout the field. So much life had been cast away without a care. Brothers torn apart, sons ripped from their mothers, fathers never to hold their loved ones. The war had been fought till the bitter end.
Never would he feel the caress of his loved one again. There were times when he would doubt he'd ever return to her. Now, he was sure. The pain dulled away by the biting winds. Winds that carried only the cries of despair.
They came without warning, and without mercy. At first, it was just occasional raids, and then raids turned to violent plunders. "Groups of heathens", that's what they were labeled, "Nothing more than mindless brutes". Boy, were we wrong. They were organized, trained, even equipped. So caught up in the old ways, we failed to see the signs. Their intelligence, their power, their hunger. Everything in their path was devoured, as if locusts had stormed the land.
His own blood ran a stream through the sand, only to join with the river of others, and flow down into the water way. Ironic, he thought, that the very land they fought to protect would wash them away.
The intrusions had reached a point of immediate priority. The alarming rate that they came in droves and the resources taken was enough to bring an entire city to a halt. The inhabitants would scrape what they could and attempt to continue onto another day. If only it were so easy. Hungering individuals would have to compete against starving families. Mothers would have to comfort the few children that resided there, the nights long and empty of compassion.
His predictions were nothing more than gut instinct, hunches from experience. He could've voiced his feelings and possibly save the city, and if not the city, then it's people. There was a problem, though. The world doesn't run on pure instinct.
Over time, the city would slowly die out. No caravans could import their goods; the natural resources couldn't be harvested while they were still existent. The harsh desert had supplied resource to the city, but after the constant traffic of skirmishes, the land had simply given out. The cacti no longer produced fruit flowers or held water. The once beautiful oasis had simply dried up, taking with it any fruit bearing trees and once attracted animals. The wildlife had simply dwindled away, leaving nothing but husks and bones, if they made it that far.
Nobody would listen to him, even if he had them at gun point. He may have been born to the right of rank, but his age made him nothing more than a scapegoat. His opinions were always shot down, never taken into concept. There were times when he led a counter strike, but that just put him in the lines of being accused for every death or injury. His father was probably rolling in his grave-scratch that-he was rolling in his fathers ashes. He at least was given the privilege to scatter his father's remains throughout the desert. Feh. It was a Goddamn right.
Slowly but surely, the city's people fell. Be it from hunger or sickness, there was no prejudice. Funerals were no option, although, there were a few reports of cannibalism. To stop this, the bodies were to be burned on sight and upon death. Unbelievable as it seemed, the finest warriors were reduced to mere scavengers. People fought amongst each other for the barest of necessities. Murder became so common; no one even gave it a second thought. Families turned on each other, often leaving behind deserted homes, or even gruesome displays. The time was coming when it would all depend on one last stand.
He was slipping away, slowly drifting out of the scene. The taste of bile was weakening, his bloodied vision receding. The heavy thudding of his pulse had dulled away, yet his thoughts were still coursing through. It was quiet, oh so quiet. The world had seemed to stop...Seem...
Once, it had been a citadel of trials and tribulations, a chance to prove one's worth and faith. Now, it had become a forlorn sight for all who roamed. The climbing number of deaths and illnesses had become laborious for the monks. There weren't enough prayers to go around. Once disease began to run rampant, the monks had no choice but to barricade themselves within the temple. It wasn't long before the doors were besieged. The Warrior Monks held them off for as long as possible, but you can't stop the inevitable. Seem had remained in her study, listening to the distant ruckus. She, by all means, was no coward. Being the youngest and head of the Order required one to be quite sound. Through the discord, she glanced up at her guardian, the Armsmaster. She knew that what they had between each other had come too late.
His eyes portrayed more than his mute nature could ever hide. He had been her keeper since the memory mattered, and as time passed, became much more. No feelings were ever admitted, they didn't have to be. She knew that he would sacrifice all that he is and all that he holds just to asure her safe keeping. The Armsmaster responded to her glance with his own gaze. He knew the time drew near, and it was closing in fast. Her eyes were questing for answers, and were giving away her own fear that lay hidin for so long. It tore him apart every time he had to see her suffer at any amount. Being born a Precurian Avatar, his body and voice were nothing more than a tool used when he channeled. His size didn't intimidate this girl, not once. She never shied away, never questioned, never doubted him.
She could feel the tension between them as her eyes lingered. She knew it was coming, and there was nothing that they could do. The impending doom did nothing to make her waver. Lost in thought, she was startled when she came to and saw nothing but Precurian plating. She was further surprised when he had knelt down to eye level. The gravity of the situation was just too much, and stoical acts were rendered useless. She gingerly touched his chest plate in question and intrigue, and was rewarded with arms entwined around her. The sudden embrace said all that was needed, and she knew at once, this is what "safe" meant. She leaned into him, accepting all that was to behold. Her whispers of emotion drowned the cries of combat and buried all doubt. This would be the last time love was expressed in these lands behind closed doors.
He remembers the screaming that carried down from the temple. Once it fell, the game was over. It grew difficult to think, thoughts and memories slowed to agonizing stills. His flooded lungs finally gave out, giving way to utter darkness. The time came, it was here. High pitched noises rose from the East, growing each passing moment. He managed to grind his teeth, even allow a tear to flow. The old hatreds were to be set aside. They should have been here. They promised. All we had to do was buy them a little time.
But at what cost?