AN: I just wanted to thank those who reviewed and also respond to the comments. It's quite exciting to know that someone is actually reading my work as I usually tend to ferret it away in some god-forsaken corner and promptly forget about it. I was originally going to stop at two chapters, but as you'll soon see, I got carried away, so this'll be extended to three chapters.
LightningStorms: Actually, not everyone in the Karsite army died, there were some survivors, but not many. You're correct in that everyone in the Valley proper did die if they had not escaped by the time the inferno began.
Loretta527 and SilentStream: I probably should have mentioned this in the first chapter, but there are no direct references to any major characters in this work. I'm glad you caught the reference to the Great Traitor and yes, I did get my idea from Alberich, although I am not actually referring to him. If you read carefully, you'll see that I never mentioned that the Great Traitor had actually been in the army, merely that he was Gifted and had fled to Valdemar. I figured that although Alberich was the first Karsite officer to be chosen, he could not have possibly been the first Gifted Karsite to escape across the border. To find out more, you'll have to wait for chapter three. Have a good read!
Chapter 2: Fire Fight
Word count: 1,171
The wall of fire in front of us would have been awe-inspiring if we had not been trembling in fear. It appeared out of nowhere, stopping us in our tracks and reminding us of the fires that took our Dark Servants. It stood unwavering and strong, slowly eating away at the lush greenery. When the Priest-Mages approached it with their heretics in-tow, the fire burned even brighter, rising up and scorching the very air. I could almost feel the fear of the men around me, almost overshadowing my own. I didn't dare move, barricaded by men behind me and flames in front. I dimly heard the captain ordering a group of men up the slope and prayed they would survive the blaze. Then, it leapt out and chased them down the mountain, like a living beast chasing its prey.
The Priests were angry then, wanting to stop this Demon-Rider who dared to stop the Holy army. They were already infuriated by the way the witch-fire had been used to torch Vkandis' shrine. Some of the more fervent believers among the troops were also enraged, enough to goad the Priests on. Dimly, I realized that I should probably be angry as well, but I stood transfixed, like a moth caught by a deadly light. The Priests began setting up their Fires to purify the heretics and call on their powers. I almost felt pity for the heretics as they cowered in fear, but then again they had brought their fates upon themselves. Just as I thought that, the Fires erupted and were absorbed into the wall of flames. It seemed angrier and burned brighter than ever, scorching the entire mountainside when the next party attempted to circumvent it. It seemed that instead of quenching the witch-fire, the attempts by the Priests had instead given it more fuel, making it burn hotter and faster. Perhaps it was not a good idea to fight fire with fire.
Then, as if our prayers had been answered by Vkandis himself, the flames disappeared, leaving a stretch of blacked land and the Valdemaran army on the other side. It took mere moments for the captains to order us onward and so we went to our glory. Or so we thought, until a wall of flames erupted again, nearly taking out our leading men. It chilled my heart to see the witch-powers at work, creating such an unnatural beast. Then, another ray of hope, there was a gap on one side of the mountain, large enough to slip through. Perhaps the powers of the Demon-Rider were waning and he was merely stalling us. Again, a false hope, as the men fell to enemy arrows, caught between the mountain and a wall of flames. The next time a clear passage opened, none of us dared move.
Ahead, I could see the officers and the Priests trying to coax some men into trying another passage, but they knew it was a death-trap and refused to cross. It was almost amusing, to see such strong men bickering like children, although I was sure no child ever argued about who would be next to die. Perhaps, if they wanted us to make the crossing so badly, our officers should have gone by themselves. Ah, another heretical thought, this time on the battlefield. I really should have stopped thinking, but standing there facing the true power of the Demon-Riders, it was hard not to think, to doubt.
The Priests were angry again, they had finally coerced some men into making another suicidal crossing. I knew few would dare defy them, that they put up a fuss at all was stunning in and of itself. Again, an unyielding wall of flame, mocking the will of the Priests, stopped them. The next time another group went thought, they were again shot down. It happened again and again and still we kept on going, slowly inching towards our deaths. Then, the witch-fire changed tactics and attacked a Priest, trying to wind around him, but he used Holy Vkandis' power to thwart it, eliciting a ragged cheer from the men. I was about to join in the rejoicing when the wall of flames bulged and enfulged him, leaving behind a charred-black corpse garbed in blue-gold flames. For the first time, the witch-fire had taken a life and none dared venture closer for some time.
Beyond the flames, I could barely see more men moving into position, preparing to slaughter our Holy army. I found myself silently praying to Vkandis to stop the Priests from sending more of His men to their deaths, but it seemed that He was not listening for the next time a gap opened, more men push though, only to be shot down yet again. The next moments were a blur as I was pushed forward as more and more men made it through the wall of flames, only to be killed almost instantly. I saw even more Demon-lovers join the Valdemaran troops, this time riding horses and Demons. Then, the wall of fire flared again, blocking our view of the enemy troops.
The Demon-Rider changed tactics again, letting the flames go out, leaving us to stare in shock at the pikes of the Valdemaran foot-soldiers. Then, as if the Priest had suddenly come to life, they yelled in unison, their message drowned out by the pounding of running feet. We were moving too fast to stop now and I could only watch in terror as bursts of flames flared ahead of me, one nearly taking off my foot. I thanked Vkandis for my luck as another wall of flames flared up less than ten feet from me, killing everyone in its path. The flames died, marring the valley with a strip of charred carcasses. This time, even with the Priests yelling obscenities, we refused to move, knowing too well that stepping beyond the line of charred ground would only invite death.
I vaguely heard a trumpet call and then the Priests gave the order for small groups to move forward and I was yet again pushed slowly, but inexorably, towards my death. I could hear the cries of dying men as they are burned alive, the scent of charred meat and metallic blood sweeping over us. More than one man was retching around me, unable to stand the carnage, but I stood, numb and unfeeling, watching as my brothers-in-arms slowly died in agony. I barely noticed the sound of trumpets and the screams of the Valdemarans as they retreated, running from the carnage they had caused. It seemed like none of the other men noticed as they still ran pell-mell towards the withdrawing Valdemaran troops. I dimly thought that maybe we too should be running in the other direction for anything that caused such terror in the Demon-lovers must truly be a terrible thing. Then, my apathy and everything else faded into insignificance as a mental cry of aguish and grief ripped through every living being, shredding our minds with its inhuman terror.