Chap 11.

A putrid cloud wafted at Jaina's senses. She felt it necessary to cover her face or fall due the disgusting smells which taunted her nose. Inside the Arcane Sanctum, the infirmary was full to the brim of injured and dying soldiers. The congestion was so high that bodies seemed to be packed as corpses. As she entered she was surrounded with a dismal scene where the faces of the fallen warriors seemed pallid and ghastly, like the grim spirits of Hades. Some moaned at her reaching like lame beggars, while others merely stared into space, their cadaverous expressions making the squeamish young mage wonder if they had already passed.

She knew that she had to stand tall and proud for them though. On the outside she was a symbol of hope. Her lovely image, highlighted by golden locks and effervescent sapphire blue eyes, caused and aura among the now frail men, even if on the inside she felt as sick as they were. A stone and impermeable skin covered her, which to them seemed silken, as she walked down the gauntlet of haggard faces searching for the bed she sought.

It was the only bed veiled from outside lookers, and inside it was the most badly injured soldier of them all. Jaina closed the white sheet around the back of her and observed the crippled young man. He'd sustained a mere modicum of superficial cuts and scrapes, but the severity of the poor man's ailment was not physical, for his body lay rigid, not limp like the others, almost as if it had been petrified. Whenever the light imbued Elven healer beside him touched the poor young man's skin he showed no reactions, as if stimuli meant nothing to him.

The most terrifying sight came when she saw his face. Eyes that darted about, frightened at unseen entities, were behind expressions twitching, slightly but controllably, in a crazed manner. Looking at him, Jaina sensed a detachment, but he did not seem as much oblivious as he did engaged. The burden expressed from the young martyr indicated some sort of conflict within, as if he was wrestling with an unknown presence inside. At the same time he looked tortured. Below his forehead, which was flushed and drenched in sweat, the tiny muscles around his eyes and mouth tightened, as if his innards were slowly being ripped from one another.

Horrified Jaina cupped her hand over the frightened scowl she gave. Using all of her will to stay at the tormented footman's side, she forced herself to inquire the Elven medic beside the bed of the soldier's condition.

"Excuse me", she asked, her voiced becoming timid with her sorrow for the stricken soldier," but I must ask of this brave man's condition".

The priest slowly turned his head to her, possibly twice as empathetic as she, but he did not lose focus of him. As his hands slowly ran over the entirety of the cursed footman's body, channeling enough holy energy into him to make the priest's eyes glow like blue fire, he turned his head to reply. By sorrowful expression he wore and his weak stuttering tone Jaina could already tell that the young footman's situation was more than dire.

"I'm sorry, Miss Proudmoore but I'm afraid he won't make it".

Though almost expecting news of condemnation Jaina still was shocked. As she held back the tears she inquired again.

" Do you mean he shall…die?"

The Priest slowly stared at the ground in a humble manner. He cleared his, already dry, throat as he told her something that he had to strain to say.

"No, in fact he won't die. Miss Jaina I… I feel something sinister lurking inside this man, but this is not the first time I've seen this happen. His mind is locked in a sort of iron maiden by this dark force, and every second we leave him like this it will close tighter and tighter. When his soul is shut beyond the point which we will be able to reach he will become…one of the Undead!"

Upon hearing the prognosis Jaina's face shattered. She couldn't bear a response, and at the same time the Infirmary felt really claustrophobic. Before the priest could attempt to say anything else she ran out of the ward in front of all the tattered men…

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As here legs pumped hard, to get away from that horrid place, Jaina clutched her blonde locks and pulled them over her face, like she did as a little girl. She wanted to veil her rosy skin, covered in rivers of tear, from the outside world and go away to a sanctuary, away from prying eyes.

All around her the sounds of confused and astonished soldiers, glancing at the sight of their broken leader, seeped in through the strands of hair stretched tight over her ears, and they made a fissure inside her. The more she ran in disarray the wider it became. Though she could not see them, their taunting faces and comments were alive in her mind. She imagined the world outside her gilded guise as being nothing but a sea of lost faith. The image of the strong young mage who would lead them now would be pervaded by this scene of a frightened immature school girl cast into a man's battle.

The base gained a stench. Foul odors, which she'd once been callous to, now permeated her senses. Sweat, steel, and blood all took a nebulous form that seemed not to irk but rue her, and the more she ran the less she felt saturated by them. Running harder and harder Jaina almost felt exhorted by the funk to leave.

It was not until she had found herself well clear of the camp that the air could be free from its impurities. The sounds, sights, and smells of that dastardly war were behind her now. Her setting didn't change anything, for her heart now bore the weight of all the crushed expectations of every soldier she'd just wait. No matter how far she could run it would always be there, as irritating as a mosquito biting at the nape of her neck.

By now she'd wandered to a cliff, and night was quickly overtaking the sky. With the nocturnal coldness biting at her she rolled into a ball, using her cape as a pillow, and cried herself to sleep.

The last thing she saw before dozing off was the red arc of the sun slowly slipping into the horizon…

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Discussion.

Thanks for every review. I truly cherish any and all feedback that I receive.

Nothin' about the story this time, Just saying' that I have exams and work so I won't update in at least a week. In other words the story will be updated with the same randomness as it was before. Jeese I didn't realize this was such a huge undertaking. I'm practically writing a friggin' novel!

I will tell you one thing though…

In the chapter after the next…

I'll finally be getting' into the main purpose of the entire story, and something I think everyone wants to see…

So bear with me while I continue the saga…

Neozero/Art…out.

P.S. Also to foreshadow the story I'll give you a special segment of an interlude I considered between this chapter and the one before it (chapter 10.).

Here it is:

*interlude* : The armies spent the night recuperating from the taxing fight. When the sun arose again it gleamed on a tiny section of forest, in small clearing, where the trees bent away ever so slightly, that had been salted and in which no vegetation grew.

I decided not to include it because this chapter occurs in the same day that the battle did, and the interlude says that the day had already passed, hence totally screwing up the plot line.

It does give a hint at one of the characters…though.