His Salvation

*disclaimer – I don't own any of the characters of cursed. However the other Oc's are the creation of my mind*

The horse lopped along, a rider slumped over its back, barely hanging on. They were not noticed at first, the horse's gait was slow but sure footed. Weighted like it was tired. Slowly as they got closer, the people in the fields noticed movement. And then recognition. Shouts were heard as people abandoned their tasks to race to the aid of the wearied horse and rider. Something was terribly wrong. The first couple of people reached the horse, stopping it in its tracks as other figures raced forward to lend aid. On first glance the rider looked to be unconscious. A closer look revealed certain horror. The horses left flank was drenched in blood.

'get him down' screamed a man. The bodies around him helped to lift the man to the ground. On his back, his injuries revealed themselves. They were horrific…. they were grievous….

'he's alive' intoned another as they checked for a pulse. 'barely'. He added.

'I don't recognise who it is beneath the blood. Come let us get him to Danlen.' With perfect execution, several men simultaneously lifted the injured man and transported him to hut not far away. They entered and placed the body onto a table. Danlen came forward, surveying the blood drenched dirty man in front of him. His breathing was shallow, rattling with liquid and wheezing. He was not long for the eternal rest his kind found in death. Nodding to himself Danlen instructed warm water, rags and specific herbs were brought to him. He knew he had not the talent to keep this man alive, but he could at least make the last moments of this man's life comfortable. When the warm water reached his side, Danlen proceeded to bathe the mans face. At least they might be able to identify his tribe. However, devotion to care soon turned to shock and horror as the mans face was revealed to be a man, they all knew very well…. Their leader storic. Panic set in and commands were given for storic's wife to be bought to the hut. Sorrow permitted the air. This was serious…. Something was very very wrong.

Etheline raced into the hut, stopping suddenly upon seeing her beloved on the table. Horror and tears graced her eyes, her hand covering her mouth as a horrified whimper broke out.

'Storic….; the name whispered watery from her lips. She went to his side.

'What happened?' she questioned. Several men shook their heads, several negative sounds echoed around the room.

'We do not know my lady. What was he doing today?' Danlen questioned her, his voice soft, apologetic, and supportive. Etheline shook her head, her hand uncovering her mouth and resting upon her chest.

'he was with the other tribe by the vestual rocks… he was formalising Eleesia's betrothal to Cadric's son…. Not this…. "her voice trailed off in a sob. Danlen shared pointed looks with the others around the room. This did not look very good at all. their kind never fought with each other. There was no reason for storic to return to them barely alive. They had all heard of the raids… not many just a few. Enough to cause wariness with a potential panic. All villages of their kind…. No survivors. They were enough away to not be a direct threat…. but they were concerning. The evidence was mounting up, proving their kind was targeted to be the start of termination. Many believed it was the beginning.

Suddenly activity in the room became hectic as the injured man on the table coughed and spluttered. His arms shot up, waving around and great heaving breaths struggled to get out of blood-filled lungs. After being turned and emptying what blood he could, the man was rolled back onto his back. His breath rattled, but his eyes were open. He was conscious, pain glistened in his eyes and his voice rasped in broken words to get his message out.

'they came…. From nowhere…. Red…. men in red…killed…. everyone…. oh hidden… the children… 'disjointed sentences and words were expelled into the air, freezing everything as the horrifying events were relayed to those present. Gasps and terrified looks graced the faces of those that listened.

'cadric …. oh hidden…. Cadric's dead… they took his son…. I tired…. oh hidden …. I tried to save him… I could not…. hidden forgive me…I could not…. they took him' the story had become clear…. the other village needed aid. Action was taken, several men left the tent, preparations were made. They would go to the other village, find out the truth. In the nearly empty hut, Etheline held Storics hand tightly. He was not long of this world now. He turned his head to look upon the woman he loved with all his life.

'get Eleesia…. Run …. hide…. do not let them …. Take her too…'

'I won't' she gently replied, smiling gently in anguish as storic took his last breath. He had done his deed; he has warned his village. Etheline let out a sob, taking a moment to lay her head on her beloveds' chest as her pain and sobs shook her shoulders. She accepted Danlen's supportive hand laid gently on her shoulder blade momentarily, before rising and swiftly leaving the tent. She would do as storic bid, but not before she had word of the other village. It might not be that bad…. She would be prepared all the same.

Several riders reached the desolated battle torn village. Huts burned, fields were trampled and uprooted. Blood drenched the earth from the bodies littered around, some of their kind, some in blood encrusted red robes. Tall crossed dotted the landscape, mounds of wood underneath giving fuel to the raging fires that lovingly caressed the bodies hanging dead on the crosses. Smoke rose in the air, washing the scene in a parody of mist. It was a gruelling horrific scene, the stuff of nightmares. Further explorations showed none alive, nothing left untouched. The scent of death lingered with the scent of burning wood and ash. Some lost the contents of their bellies. Tears coursed down faces, voices and words of sorrow sang out. The grief for such senseless tragedy was overwhelming. The dead had fought in desperation. But the scene proved it was futile. It was a senseless mass extermination. A few men scoped the outside of the village, seeming to look at the ground. One voice rose above the others, bringing them all together hurriedly.

'something was dragged from here…' further investigation revealed nothing. Twilight saw the men travelling home, desolate, shoulders slumped in grief, terror their constant companion. Upon arrival to their village, they relayed what they had seen to their elders. The story the desolation of the other village foretold. Others of the tribe had gathered listening in horror to the unfolding truths. It seemed as if they were hunted, their kind had become the prey.

Etheline listened quietly, sorrow deep in her chest, her body aching for the lives lost. Nodding slightly to herself she returned to her hut and made final preparations. She and her daughter would leave at dawn.

…

The sky had barely lightened when the men in red came. The first stirring elicited a grotesque surprise, the air filling with terror filled screams as people were pulled from their homes. By daybreak everything had progressed. Crosses were going up; a huge bonfire took the focus off the burning village as men in red dragged people to be cleansed by their faith. Smoke framing the village almost eerily. No one noticed the small handful of people and children slipping away, the last of their tribe, the dark marks under their eyes denoting their identity, never to be seen for along time…