Wingthrone, the Mardu fortress - two years ago.
Kaldros sighed despairingly at his older brother, who entered the room quietly, Jakhan futilely trying not to wake up Kaldros as he slipped into the bed beside him.
"You should really try to stop getting into fights, Jakhan," Kaldros spoke softly, still making his twin jump as he had assumed that Kaldros was still asleep.
"It's not my fault!" Jakhan yelled angrily, "He started it. He insulted you and dad"
"Who was it this time?" Kaldros asked, sitting up in the bed and putting his small arm around his brother's large shoulders. Jakhan had the muscular body of a young adult but still had the mind of a twelve year old boy – one that often got into fights.
"You're not my dad," Jakhan snarled, shrugging off his brother.
"No, but I still care about you – don't worry, I won't tell him," Kaldros smiled and Jakhan finally turned around to look at him. The older twin had bruises all over his face, including a black eye that throbbed painfully.
"Daciak, he insulted you and dad, so I punched him and we started to have a fight," Jakhan's eyes fell, "I lost."
"Let me see to you," Kaldros moved closer, soothing White mana flowing from his palm.
"No!" Jakhan shouted, shoving his twin away from him. Kaldros fell off the bed and whacked his head on the wall.
"Ow!" he shouted, "What was that for?"
"Sorry! Sometimes I forget how strong I am compared to you, little brother. Anyway, I can't always rely on you to patch me up. When we go to battle, you won't be able to help me."
"Don't call me that," Kaldros snarled.
"Why not?" Jakhan teased, moving towards his twin and grabbing his thin arms, Jakhan's large hands fully encircling even the upper biceps. He held Kaldros's arms against his body, preventing his twin from moving.
"I'm bigger, stronger and older than you," he said, giggling as Kaldros tried to get him off, increasing the pressure of his grip.
"Stop it Jakhan, you're hurting me!" Kaldros yelled. His brother released him and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him closer in a brotherly hug.
"I love you, little brother," Jakhan said, smiling.
Suddenly, the door slammed open, and a large figure wearing bloodstained armour that glinted in the moonlight ran in.
"Father? You're home already? You said you had to be out all night," Jakhan inquired as the figure sped forwards and as Jakhan let go of his twin and turned around, the figure punched him in the face.
"Jakhan!" screamed Kaldros as his brother fell onto the floor, unconscious. The figure, now clearly an orc with a manic look in his eyes, grabbed the struggling Kaldros and pushed a clammy hand over his mouth, muffling the boy's yells as he ran out of the house. The Wingthrone was one of the few permanent Mardu settlements, a large citadel with mostly used for the labour class to manufacture weaponry for the Horde. As his kidnapper ran through the empty streets, Kaldros thrashed violently, throwing kicks into the orc's hard, leathery flesh. He quickly deduced that the show of resistance was nothing more than that, and wasn't affecting the orc. Kaldros soon worked out that he was chosen to be abducted as he was the weaker of the two, but to what end?
"Stop, traitor!" A loud bellow rang through the quiet streets, the orc freezing in place as Kaldros twisted to see who had shouted. A small contingent of Mardu stood, blocking their path – the boy recognised Azal Coldsword, right hand of the Khan himself and next to him stood his own father, Carrok Warblade.
"Move any closer, and I'll kill the boy," the orc hissed, pulling Kaldros into view and placing a serrated blade at his throat. Kaldros saw the recognition in his father's eyes, although he expected no help from him – Carrok shunned his youngest son for reasons he did not even know, although the twin assumed it had something to do with how unsuited he was for physical violence and how his brother excelled at it, much like his father. He then registered that the only reason he had been taken was to simply act as an insurance policy.
"Do it then," Azal goaded, stepping closer to the orc, who growled and pressed the blade closer into the terrified boy's throat, the sharp edge drawing blood which dripped slowly onto the ground. Kaldros whimpered slightly pathetically as he realised he would die if the soldiers didn't help him.
Carrok look scared and surprised in equal measure, the general stunned and unable to react as the image of his youngest son in mortal danger interspersed with that of Cerelis screaming in pain.
"Go on. It matters not to me that a soft-heel dies," his voice dripping with malice, Azal was fully aware of Kaldros's relation to Carrok and seemed to simply not care.
The orc shrieked in fury and violently drew his blade across the boy's throat, blood spurting out of the gaping wound as Carrok, snapped out his reverie, shouted in sadness and rage.
Then, a small explosion of pure mana radiated out of Kaldros's body, utterly erasing the orc from existence and blinding the guards. Shielding their eyes from the unrelenting light, they were knocked backwards against the walls of nearby buildings.
.*.*.*.
When Carrok awoke, there was no sign of his son or the assailant, and the rest of the guards were still unconscious. It was still the dead of night, other soldiers apparently unaware of what just happened. Carrok somehow knew that his son was still alive and also knew where he had gone – a small cave in the nearby mountains overlooking a peaceful waterfall outside of Wingthrone. He could only describe it as a parental feeling of just knowing that his son was safe.
The Warblade had followed his youngest son there on numerous occasions, wanting to apologise for his behaviour but finding himself unable to do so, every time he had left feeling disgusted with himself. Now he knew he had no choice, trying to plan what he should say as he ran the short journey to his son's sanctuary.
Panting for breath, he arrived at the entrance to the cave and saw his youngest son simply sat on the cave floor, his eyes shut.
"Kaldros, you're alright," Carrok exclaimed, feeling relieved that his belief in his son's survival was true.
The boy's eyes snapped open in surprise and he backed away from his father, snarling: "What do you want?"
"I just wanted to make sure you were okay," Carrok replied.
"No thanks to you."
Carrok had expected his son to be annoyed, but what he had to say couldn't wait any longer.
"Kaldros, I don't know what to say, other than, I'm sorry," he moved closer to his younger son, tears falling down his face as he finally said what he should of said years ago.
"I was an idiot, too blinded by my own grief at your mother's death to realise that she had given me not one, but two amazing sons. Kaldros, I love you," Carrok walked forwards, arms held outwards and ready to embrace his son.
Kaldros roared in rage and flung his hands forwards, tendrils of the purest darkness shooting out and wrapping around the stunned Carrok, pain blossoming on every part of his body.
"You think you can just come in here after all these years, professing to be sorry, and think that I'll just forgive you and we'll just forget about all the years of pain you caused me? Pathetic" Kaldros spat threateningly.
"I'm not expecting you to forgive me-" Carrok spoke through the immense pain.
"SHUT UP!" Kaldros howled in anger, the agony intensifying throughout his father's body. Kaldros slumped down, the magic dissipating, releasing Carrok who fell to the floor as tears ran down his young face.
Despair inflecting his voice, Kaldros said "If you wanted to be my father, you should have started a long time ago."
He stood up and trudged towards the exit, shouting back to his unmoving father: "I'm going to go check on Jakhan, he was knocked unconscious. You're welcome to join me," and left.
.*.*.*.
Jakhan heard his brother's unearthly scream and could feel the ground shaking with violent energies, immense amounts of mana being released every second by his brother. The loxodon charging at him vaporised instantly, as did most of the Temur surrounding Kaldros.
The mage fell to the ground, released by the vines pulling him apart as they were incinerated, mana rushing wildly around him, obliterating and cracking the land. The aspirant flew upwards on blinding wings, flame-bolts firing indiscriminately into both Mardu and Temur as White and Black mana coalesced around the teenager. A group of Whisperers attempted to stop him, claws of fire curving through the air towards Kaldros, who simply raised his hand, the defensive White mana stifling the flames as a beam of golden energy shot out of Kaldros's palm, ending the shamans.
Kaldros howled in unnatural anger as nine coils divided into three colours of mana (Red, Black and White) burst out of him, wrapping around each other. The clouds, which had been languidly depositing snow over the battlefield now turned red and furious. Jakhan felt a small splash on his right arm, and saw a splatter of crimson blood, much lighter and more vivid than the viscera that already coated him.
He felt more claret liquid land on him and looked upwards, gore raining down from the angry clouds. Pale lightning flashed, as the scarlet ichor coated everything, turning the whole battlefield into multiple shades of red.
Jakhan was passed by a fleeing orc but paid absolutely no heed, his attention captured by the horrendous things his brother had created. Kaldros fell to the ground, his magical reservoir completely depleted, but the damage had been done.
Three Butchers of the Horde glared down at the battlefield, each one borne aloft on four flayed wings and holding no weaponry – they had no need of it. Jakhan had heard stories of them from the old shamans, involving arrogant and youthful shamans sacrificing their lives to summon just one Butcher. That his brother had summoned three was astounding, even more so if he survived. Jakhan spied his twin laying flat on the bloodstained ground and ran towards him.
As he neared his brother, one of the Butchers landed in front of him. It reeked of death, and as Jakhan looked into its black eyes, he saw visions of extreme violence – he is in a field, walking in the long grass when his foot bumps into something solid. He looks downwards, horrified at the sight that awaits him; a hole in the ground that is filled to the brim with flayed corpses looking at him with dead eyes.
He is in an Abzan city, the high walls surrounding the talking civilians. They think they are safe, that their army will protect them, but nothing can stop this foe. A gargantuan tidal wave of blood rushes over the ramparts, drowning thousands of innocent people. The blood crashes past him and Jakhan is submerged, gasping for breath as the crimson liquid rushes down his throat.
He is in his house at Wingthrone, his twin brother sat across from him. Jakhan punches him in the face, blood spurting out of his nose as Kaldros cries in pain. He picks his brother up by the throat with both hands, lifting the thrashing boy off the ground and slamming him against the wall. He can feel his brother's small and weak hands attempting to pull Jakhan off his throat. He wants nothing more than to squeeze until his twin dies and laughs as he sees the scared panic in his eyes.
No, thinks Jakhan, This is not real!
Jakhan snapped back into reality, still looking into the eyes of the Butcher, which immediately flew off to join its brethren as they smashed into the Temur lines. He ran to his brother's side, the young mage unconscious. Jakhan picked him up off the ground and hoisted Kaldros onto his back, wrapping his thin arms around his own neck and lifting up Kaldros's legs in a piggy-back like position. He turned to look at the Butchers – they were reaping a great tally amongst the Temur, but were woefully outnumbered and would soon be brought down.
Meanwhile, there was still a large amount of Temur not distracted by the Butchers, and they charged after the fleeing Mardu now that the obstacle Kaldros's magic created had gone. Thousands of Horde warriors were cut down in the rout, many ainok going mad with battlerage and stopping to feast on the corpses. Jakhan would have ran with the rest of his clan but their path was cut off by Temur warriors chasing down their foes.
The burly youth saw a gap in the Temur lines – the forest from which the ambushers had originated. If Jakhan could remember his geography correctly, following a river in there would probably lead the brothers to Sarashak, a neutral trading city with regular visitors of Jeskai, Sultai and Abzan traders. While not exactly safe, it would provide them with a place to stay away from the vengeful Temur. Jakhan almost asked his brother for his thoughts on the manner, before remembering that he was still unconscious. Despite the risk that it may not even still be there, Jakhan decided that Sarashak was the safest place to go, so set off quickly on that route, noticing some of the Temur breaking off to chase them down.
.*.*.*.
The Butchers crashed into the Temur, forcing the clansmen surrounding Zurgo to break off to deal with this huge threat, leaving the Khan roaring his defiance at them. Setting off to chase them down, Zurgo almost killed Azal when the human placed his hand on his waist.
"My Khan, please!" the Coldsword practically begged, "We have to leave while the Butchers distract the enemy"
"...", the Khan did not reply at first, but then roared in frustration at how close he was to murdering Surrak, the man who had caused his clan the most shame out of any other living being.
"Fine! We shall flee for now, but mark my words: We will return, and then we shall scour the Temur off the face of Tarkir!" he bellowed.
"My Khan?" Carrok spoke aloud for the first time since his argument with Azal, "there is something I must do first."
"I understand," said the Khan, "Go to your sons. But know this – should you return, you will be stripped of rank and become a member of the labour class for abandoning your Khan in battle. Are you still sure about this?"
"Definitely, my lord,"
Azal had to physically restrain himself to prevent him from bursting out in laughter - this was too easy!
Carrok ran to where he could see his sons fleeing towards the forest – he would intercept them in a couple of hours, hopefully before the Temur got to them.