The Glades

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The company followed Flaréoné down the hill they were on. There was a small path to the left. Flaréoné followed it down. The sky was white turning steadily to grey, heavy with rain, but none fell.

The Glade looked much worse down here. The grass that had looked merely parched from higher above looked positively starved, even burned, and here and there, there were parts of uprooted earth and the grass was trodden on underfoot. It was also overgrown, and so weak and unfed that it couldn't hold its own weight, nor that of the steady wind that was blowing around the glade.

Rayman realised that the Glade was bigger then it had looked from above; there were trees like a wall which prevented the rest of the glade being viewed. The trees were also withered, the trunks were burned and black, leaves that were neither green nor yellow giving them a sickly colour. Many of them were dead, but they seemed stuck, none blew in the wind.

The silence was complete; there were no birds twittering, no trees rustling. Their own breath seemed to make too much noise. Even the wind seemed to make little noise, even though it was howling forcefully. Every step they took seemed to echo a million times in the glades. All their senses were alert.

There was a small gap in the trees, coated with golden leaves. Rayman stepped cautiously toward it. There was a small sign next to the entry, once possibly a magnificent sign displaying the entry to the Glades. Now however, it was lopsided and broken. One of its supports had broken down completely and the rest were close to doing so. The wood that it was made of was very brittle. A small hanging piece fell off in the wind, and flew half-heartedly toward them, landing near their feet.

On the sign what had once said The Glory Glades now had graffiti all over it. The 'L' had been crossed out if bright red ink which looked awfully like blood. It now read The Gory Glades.

'Gory?' Rayman spoke aloud, cautiously.

'We'll stay here.' Furio and Furion suggested. 'To make sure that nobody follows you in.' they stood one on each side of the entry, their swords drawn. They were conversing in thoughts.

The rest walked through the path, the trees either side standing ominously, their dead branches clinging to each other overhead, blocking off all light from the sky above. The wind blew from in front and behind tunnel chilling them to their bones, but no one even noticed, they were too anxious to get to the other side.

The state of the trees became steadily worse, and as they exited the other side, the trees had become black, and crumbling, half-burned and were completely bare. A rotten log looked as though it had been hacked down with a blunt axe, and left were it had fallen, rotting in the mud which was tinged with the green of crushed undergrowth.

'A sacrilege of life!' Globox exclaimed angrily.

The ground was becoming wet and even boggy. Their feet fell deep into the mud and became covered in the thick murky substance. Flaréoné seemed unaffected by the mud, but his feet were not entirely visible behind the cloak of flames. He was covered by the flames, only his head and the upper part of his body were truly visible, and even then it was as though covered with a mist or smoke. He seemed to have changed, looking a little taller; a little fainter; only his face was truly visible. Even now his face betrayed no emotion.

But the glade looking like this was affecting him most deeply. He had dwelt there for a long while during the years, and to see the once-familiar surroundings of the glade so horribly blighted were a shock to him. He proceeded quickly toward the centre were the residents of the glade traditionally lived.

But that was where the most horrible shock lay.

In the open Glade among the first of the trees a horrible smell filled the air, drifting toward them in the wind. As they ventured further into the Glade the trees thinned, the suddenly fell away revealing a horrific scene before them.

A huge pit had been dug from the tip of the trees to the other side. The ground in the pit was dead and blighted. It stank of death. A gentle pool of blood and mud had gathered into the middle, and tainted the sides, giving the image of a huge and red basin.

Scattered all over the pit were the residents of the Glades. Blood was everywhere as were body parts. A huge fire was in the middle; started with what seemed like bare bodies. The ashes were still hot and burning. Beside it was a great pile of helms and mail, cloven shields, and broken swords, bows and darts, and other gear of war. Upon a stake in the middle was set a great warrior of the Glade.

Some heads had been cut off and placed horribly into spikes rising from the ground. People lay half-lifted into the air with poles driven through their chests and necks. Some residents of the Glade had tried to fight back but had been skewered on their own swords.

Naked wounds ran bloody and deep, tributaries to the giant stream that led to the pit. Green scars lay along the ground, vines of poison and blood snaked along the ground, curling and twisting, lapping hither and thither.

Flies gathered in clusters around the glades feasting on dead flesh and rotten carcasses. Rats feasted on the dead bodies of the citizens on the glade, growing huge in size, and deviously cunning. They fought amongst each other and killed each other leaving their bodies also dead on the ground. These rats were also long gone, even though only three days had passed.

The bodies were halfway decomposing, and the stench of death lay heavily among the ground. Horribly disfigured faces gaped at them through death, with eyes wide open, mouths half open in an everlasting scream. Blood and fire was everywhere.

Houses and huts that had once stood tall and proud had been burned to the ground, ashes blowing gently back and forth in the wind along with the incinerated remains of the people who had been dwelling in them. The dried woods of the houses had been used in the fuelling of the great central fire, which burned ever bright and blazing, scorched bodies being reduced to ashes and beyond.

Rayman stared in shock at the glade before him. Who could possibly have done this? His eyes were caught at all the warriors, dead. They died protecting their homes, just as he was doing. His breath caught suddenly, and he found that his chest had gone tight.

Globox looked all around it, horrified at the state that the glade was in. He was a great lover of nature. His fists were clenched as he glared at the defaced Glade.

Fianna's brow was creased, and her hand on her sword. The state of the glade troubled her, to say the least, but she didn't let that cloud her judgement, and she knew that someone had done this, and also that they may still be there.

Flaréoné walked in shock to the centre of the Glade, where the great warrior had been skewered, and looked at him in shock. He had known him, and remembered him now. His face now began to betray some of the emotion he felt, shock showed on his face primarily, but also a gaping whole of despair with a seed of anger in it.

Suddenly four bright pillars of light erupted from the cloudless sky and struck like lightning into the ground in four corners around Flaréoné. But the lightning did not fade and thunder did not follow. Silently, tendrils grew out of the pillars, and like vines entangled Flaréoné. Even as he struggled the vines seemed to slowly entangle him, and when they finally covered him they turned solid and Flaréoné was encased in a cell.

At that same time a loud cry sounded from the glades and out of the encircling forest hundreds small men with painted faces and bare chests charged blindly toward Rayman and his friends. The wind blowing wildly through their ragged hair, blowing it up to make them seem taller then they really were; small things, wearing chiefly green and blue, with yellow and red marks painted into their faces. Immediately they knew that these were the people who had desecrated the Glade. The each held long spears in their hands with lethally sharp points. Yelling screams and war cries, they charged toward the three who had wondered nearer the middle of the Glade.

Globox immediately tried to do what he had done but a few nights ago. It seemed like such a long time ago. He raised his hands and tried to create the storm he had created then. A cloud came and shot toward the invaders, and for a moment they faltered, but fear overcame him and he fell whimpering to his knees, his hands over his eyes, and trying to hide his considerably large form.

Rayman sent fists half-heartedly at invaders. Even so, they fell over, and some did not rise again. Fianna drew him sword from her scabbard and swung brutally at the figure in front of her, using her momentum to bring her sword down into another. She kicked at one that tried to stab her as she drew her sword up again. But one jumped onto her from behind and bit the back of her head, and as she tried to draw it off, others swarmed her and pummelled her.

Rayman gritted his teeth and fought with renewed vigour. If he was going to fall, he would fall protecting Fianna as she had fallen protecting him that fateful night.

He sent a fireball at the cluster of monsters at Fianna. It exploded on contact and its shock sent the little creatures flying and Fianna herself moved deeper into the dirt. He lifted her out so that she would not suffocate, and sent another fireball at the sea of oncoming monsters. Some fell but more still kept coming.

He sent a Powerball into the face of a creature who was about to leap up at him. He created some dancing flames alike to those that Mr. Dark had used against him, and sent them circling around Fianna. With a grim determination he attacked the monsters who had swarmed up at him.

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Traid was worried. The troop that he had sent out had not returned though the time in which they were meant to return had long gone. Three days had gone now since he had sent them.

He pondered over where they could possibly be, or what could possibly have happened to them. He drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long deep sigh.

He needed to get to the bottom of this mystery. More and more people where disappearing and the residents of the valley were becoming fearful and some words were whispered among them that Traid had some deal with them.

He worried about conflict within the Freelings, and was striving to find any of the captured, or even just a little information. The troop that he had sent three days ago had not been seen since; more and more people were beginning to believe that Traid had something to do with it.

He sighed again and looked around the dwelling he lived in. In the small amount of time the Freelings had been free, they had already made themselves houses and already they were settling down – if it was not for the kidnappings, for that is what they seemed to be, the Freelings would already be a thriving society. It was small enough that everyone knew each other and yet, large enough to be productive. Traid sighed. It was his idea of a perfect society.

There was a knock on the door.

'Come in.' Traid said, and they did. Another troop who Traid had called together earlier stood in front of them.

Three of his own kind there were, though their skin was not as leathery as his, nor as creased. They stood still looking at him, with spears held and their sides and awaiting orders. This time they would go armed.

There were also two females, sisters. Suain and Liana. Nobody knew them but themselves, and they had been of the few that were not willing to open. Living in self-imposed seclusion, they had not talked much, although they had come whenever duty had called. Traid was now one of the few people they trusted, if trust it could be called. He trusted them completely, and hoped that they would be able to bring Traid some news.

A chill wind came into the room and chilled them to their bones. The weather was turning steadily worse. Traid created a magical fire in the middle of the room that heated them, but did not burn the wood that the buildings were made out of.

'You know why you are here I presume.' Nod 'It may be dangerous out there.' He paused. 'I implore you to be careful. If there is anything hostile out there, try not to face it alone, if at all. If there is something unfriendly out there, you should get back and we will send out an attack force to deal with it. This is not to say that you shouldn't protect yourself. You are just looking. Try if you can to find some news of our fellow residents. Good luck and Godspeed.'

The troop nodded again, and trooped out of the house. The wind chilled the room again as the door closed. A few loose leaves flew into the house, and lay on the floor. Traid stared at them for a long while, thinking.

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Rayman sent yet more fists at the relentless army. He was scratched and bruised, but bodies lay all about him, a small barrier to the army that didn't stop. How long he had been there fighting he did not know.

It seemed to him that his fists were getting weaker, and his flames getting stronger, so he used more and more the powers he was unfamiliar with. The wind blew now slower and stronger, bearing heavy rain. Rayman didn't know if these magical flames would be affected by water, but he had no desire to risk it.

He charged up a fireball.

A creature jumped up to attack his face, helped somewhat by the wind which pushed him forward. Rayman instinctively punched it in the face with the hand the fireball was in. It caused a weird effect, of a fist, Powerball, and Fireball combined.

Rayman had discovered a new power.

He gritted his teeth and did it again. But this time the Fireball was not completely created when he sent it, but his fists seemed as though they were on fire.

A fiend managed to slip underneath him, stabbing his foot as he went. Blood fell out spilling onto the ground. Rayman faltered for a second. In that one moment he looked all around the Glade.

Flaréoné's cage had dispersed, but Flaréoné himself laid writing on the floor, his flames weak, his eyes unfocused, his mouth gaping. His face covered in mud. The wind threw dead leaves at him in as if in spite, mocking him in his weakness.

Fianna lay near his feet. She looked merely asleep, but her face was deep in the mud. Rayman lifted her up and turned her to face the sky.

Globox lay on the floor not far from where Fianna had fallen. His hands over his head, but he was no longer trembling, he looked as though he had frozen where he was, if it wasn't for the pale-blue, almost silver substance dripping down his arm to create a small puddle in the ground. It was blood. A deep gash was in Globox's head where the watery blood was coming from.

Rayman stared for a second at Globox's fallen form. To the attackers it looked as though his face contorted. His eyes looked like coals, kindled into a roaring flame, his hands looked as though they were on fire, and his face looked…different. A fire seemed to consume him from the inside.

He ran blindly into the swarm of enemies, fists flailing, anger spilling out onto these creatures. He opened his eyes watching the people fall before him. He yelled, shooting yet more fists at the coming swarm.

Fire erupted out of the ground. Without realising it Rayman had created a huge pillar of flame out of the ground the scorched all those around him. The attackers fled away from it, scrambling over each other to avoid getting burned.

But that path led them to Rayman. He felt himself controlled by anger. He knew, and yet he didn't care. He didn't want to protect his friends anymore; he wanted to kill, to vent out his anger and his frustration. At the moment his target was those unfortunate attackers. They tried to flee from his oncoming anger, and the great flame behind them.

But there was nowhere to go.

They were trapped. The foolish creatures decided that Rayman would hurt them less. They charged toward him, only to be met by a huge onslaught of fire and anger. Fire engulfed them from the ground, from behind…from Rayman himself.

The air was black with pungent smoke. Nothing in the Glade was burnable except the creatures, and they met the full fury of the storm.

The sky above let loose its water in an attempt to douse the fires, but Rayman held that to his advantage too.

The warriors attacking him raised their weapons to the sky and yelled out a shriek of laughter. They were saved. And when the first few drops of water fell, they felt invigorated, the water sliding down their bare bodies. Rayman's grim form stood in front of them, his hair wet, his fists raised, and his face contorted in a scowl of fury.

But the rain changed. Its cool refreshing touch grew warm. Soon it was scalding them! Then the rain turned into fire and now it truly was burning them. The night had fallen, and it was very dark. So dark in fact that they could not see Rayman but for a dark shadow illuminated by the blazing fire-rain.

The little creatures screamed and withered in pain, scalded and burnt by the hot flames. Not one of the attackers had been left alive. Their bodies lay smoking and burning in the ruins of the glade; exactly opposite the fire of the residents.

Rayman stood panting heavily. The anger pulsing through his veins died down, and he looked in horror at what was before him.

I did that… He thought. I…killed…them… his fists fell down to his side, still clutched tightly into fists. He stared at the attackers before him. He turned around and vomited heavily onto the ground. Sweat poured off his large nose. He ran to where Fianna was and tried to wake her, but she was heavily asleep. Globox, too, he couldn't wake.

He ran then toward Flaréoné. His eyes were wide; his flames very weak. He looked almost dead. Rayman made him sit. His eyes were unfocused, and his mouth gaping open. He looked slightly insane.

'Flaréoné!' Rayman whispered, then realising he had no reason to be quite, he repeated louder. But Flaréoné didn't reply; indeed, he didn't even seem to notice that Rayman was there at all.

Rayman waved a hand in front of his eyes. Nothing. He slapped Flaréoné hard, to no avail. Flaréoné stared straight through Rayman as though he wasn't there. He went back to Globox, and tried to wake him. He opened his eyes slightly and gazed at Rayman.

'Ray…man…' he gasped. 'I…think there was…some sort of…poison…on their weapons…' he tried to lift an arm but he couldn't manage it. His eyes drooped again and Rayman couldn't wake him again. He realised that trying to do that to Fianna would have similar effects.

He ran back to Flaréoné and managed to get him to stand up. He tried to get Flaréoné to help him, but he was unresponsive, and instead followed Rayman.

Furio and Furion. Rayman thought to himself. If I cant get Globox and Fianna to them, maybe they can help. In any case, we can't stay here… He cast another furtive look around the Glade and felt a strange sickening sensation in his stomach. So much death here… He thought.

He returned to Fianna and lifted her easily to his soldier. She was much lighter then he had expected. He knew that Globox would be heavier, and it took a lot of strength for Rayman to lift him. He held him like he did with plums. Globox's one heavy plum…Rayman thought to himself.

Globox's blood had disappeared, as had the gash in his forehead. The ground where the blood has fallen was grassy and looked as it would have before the Glade's desecration. Rayman stared at it for a couple of seconds, then turned.

He carried them to the outer part of the Glade with Flaréoné following dumbly. Flaréoné seemed to recover slightly. His eyes were more focused, although he still had a dazed expression on his face.

Rayman had a rest to the entrance of the tunnel, and turned to look around the Glade again. He cupped his face in his hands and tried to block out the feeling as he realised he had killed all those creatures. But I enjoyed killing them! Rayman realised. I hurt them and burnt them, and killed them, but in enjoyed it. I liked killing them! What am I turning into…

He tried to push these thoughts out of his head as he carried Fianna and Globox through the tunnel.

At the other end he saw Furio and both there.

But they were tied, their hands and feet tied to a tree, with their weapons on the floor beneath them. Rayman carefully placed Globox and Fianna on the floor and ran to them, to help them out of their bounds. He used their weapons to cut the ropes. They immediately launched into an explanation.

'There were so many!'

'Hundreds and hundreds!'

'They overpowered us.'

'And tied us to these trees.'

'I think they went into the Glades. Did you see them?'

Rayman stopped them. 'Yes I saw them. They are no more…' his face darkened. Furio and Furion exchanged looks.

'What…what did you do to them?' Furio asked.

'I killed them.' Rayman said bitterly. 'I killed them…'

Furio and Furion didn't push hi about it.

'What happened to those three?' Furion asked. Globox and Fianna were still lying in the mud where Rayman had placed them. Flaréoné stood next to them. His mouth was now closed, and his gaze clearer, but he still seemed incapable of speech.

'Globox and Fianna I think are hurt by some poison. I don't know what happened to Flaréoné. He was trapped in some sort of cage…' Rayman looked at him closely. 'But we can't stay here. We must go. Quickly. Away from here.'

Furio and Furion lifted Globox between them, and Rayman carried Fianna. Flaréoné walked with Rayman as they made steady progress back into the forest. They stopped some way in, and Rayman placed Fianna on the ground again.

As soon as he did so, she jumped up and looked around in shock. Her face was very white.

'What happened? Where are those creatures? Where are we?' Rayman told her to sit down, and not to worry.

'I think you were poisoned. Globox too,' he said pointing to were Globox was. 'You'll need some rest. Try not to move. Furio and Furion will come to you in a sec.'

'Globox is ok. No lasting damage I think. The poison is wearing off. We've done what we can for him, he'll be fine.' They turned to Fianna. 'And now you.' They checked her for signs of poisoning, but she seemed ok. 'You are very resistant against the poison! The best thing to do now is too sleep. I think all of us should. Me and Furion will keep guard.'

Flaréoné was sitting with his back against a tree, his eyes clouded again, but no longer gazed, as though he was merely thinking. Rayman looked at him.

'He'll be ok.' Furion said, noticing that Rayman was looking art Flaréoné. 'I don't know what happens, but he seems to be recovering already. Get some sleep. You need it.'

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