The name given to him before, what he called bleakness was General Dravam ti?Macnas Bashere. But now every one referred to him as Ti?boh, which meant ugly. His name was Ugly. They thought he couldn?t understand them. They thought Dravam was an ugly deaf git.
Outside he could hear the birds chirping and almost feel the heat of the sun. Ti’boh new what was going on outside. People were visiting their friends and family. Others were walking in the garden admiring the beautiful flowers grown by shredded minds.
He caught a flicker of movement at his minute window. It was his friend. Bird. Bird was a Red Crested Wren; it had a tiny beak that would peck at the crumbs left on his chest. Looking past Bird, Ti’boh could make out nine parts of a very beautiful sun. The window had curtains of steel.
The ring of steel hung in the air as he drew his sword. But he was barely aware of it. He new his opponent and the style he used. Jec was a formidable opponent. Both were well trained to the sword, both were near blade-master level already.
Both stood on the balls of their feet ready to strike and defend. Quick as a fox Jec swung high. It was easily blocked. Getting in the right position he swung. Rising Sun met Startled Duck. As both near blade-masters swords hit he pivoted on his left foot and swung his right into Jecs? ribcage. With a gasp of pain Jec quickly backed away.
Jec was at a disadvantage, as he had not had training by a master of hand and feet fighting.
As Jec got a firm right in the ribs the point of a sword plunged into his heart. As always whenever he killed someone a pain unlike any felt on the flesh took hold of him. He felt like crying. The last thing Jec ever saw was the watery eye of his best friend looking at him with a grave expression on his face.
Looking into the crowd surrounding him, Dravam could think of nothing but pigs. Pigs, the lot of them. Driven into a blind frenzy at the site of blood.
Dravam felt sick. Not vomit sick, but sick. He felt like he was going to?
With a choking moan Ti’boh woke up in the tatters he called a bed. He would have called out for help, had he a tongue. Those flashbacks had been happening a lot more of late. Maybe it was a sign; maybe it was nothing. Nothing. His life meant nothing to Ti’boh anymore.
Looking out his tiny window Ti’boh could tell the sun was just starting to set; it was casting a magnificent sunset across the land. Red and yellow blending into a pink unlike any he had ever seen before. If this isn?t beauty, he thought, then I don?t know what is. Beauty.
Ti’boh remembered beauty. Though it was a different kind of beauty. Something about a woman?
Vanya shut the door behind her as she walked outside down the garden path out to the awaiting man. She was wearing a silver-white dress that came down to her ankles. The dress was done up to her neck with lace clinging to the top of it. Her shoes were white also, with pointy ends. Her dark hair came down to her dainty waste, adding a shadowy contrast to the dress.
Dravam was wearing a red coat buttoned up to his neck with wolves climbing up the sleeves in gold stitching. His light blue breeches had heavy dark stitching of panthers clawing their way up the legs. His dark blonde hair was shaven at the sides and about an inch tall at the top. Even his piercing grey eyes could be seen in the dark. Always searching eyes seeming to see her very soul, were looking into the hedges waiting for an attack. Vanya avoided his eyes.
?Oh, do tell. Please. Pleeease.? She whined.
?Nay, my lady it would spoil this wonderful evening with you. I can?t for then you would not want to go.? Dravam said with a mystical smile on his handsome face.
As they walked down the street they came across a tavern with a storyteller acting out tales, long forgotten, to the tune of a harp. As they reached the outskirts of the large town Dravam took a narrow path that looked like it had never been used before. Walking down the path they came to a river that looked like it was fire; the sunset cast a magnificent array of colours upon the world. Pink; red; yellow; orange; all blended into one.
?What is wrong, my lady. Do you not like what I have to offer you?? Dravam asked with concern in his voice.
?No, it is not that; it is just? it isn?t fair.? She said in a trembling voice. ?Can we please go now?? she got up and started walking away. Dravam took one last look at the fiery river then followed.
He sensed that he shouldn?t ask what was wrong; so instead he cuddled her. She welcomed it.
When they reached her front gate, he noticed that it stood open, when Vanya had shut it when they left.
?Where you expecting anyone?? He asked.
Vanya looked at the gate and shook her head.
?I?ll go first.?
As he reached the gate he felt the cold hard metal of a knife slide through his ribs.
The last thing he remembered before it went black was the face of Vanya with tears streaming down her face.
Ti’boh woke with tears running down his face. He hated his memories. Why did they keep on haunting him? Why? It wasn?t his fault; he would have run away and hide, he would have? he really would. He would have killed himself, had the entire human population and some others not depended on him. He couldn?t run away from that. But now he wished he did. The books didn?t even remember his name properly.
It was said that: ?towards the end of the war General Darvam ti?Mcnas Basher turned to the Shadow, in the hopes that he would be made supreme ruler of the living, following orders from Haels?Gerai Himself. The supreme ruler of the dead; trying to break through the Hold into the world of the living.?
The world thought he was a Damned One. Someone that followed the Shepard of the Night. It was not fair! True he was taken to the Hold. He even talked to the Banished One. But the disgusting evil twisted thing tortured him! Tortured him beyond recognition. For years all he felt was pain. Pain, like nothing he had ever felt before. Sometimes when he was allowed to stay in his cell without pain it hurt even more. He hated not being in pain more than he did being in pain. He hated it more because he could think. He could think about his life before he was captured, that gave him a pain in his heart. He could think about what they would do to him next, that gave him a pain in his stomach. He could think about himself. That gave him a pain in his head.
The world thought he went over to the Shadow! He should have just to spite them!
To make it worse it was Vanya who turned him in. His love was a Damned One. That was when the books said he turned to the Shadow. But before that there was the Battle of Demons. He could remember it well.
General Dravam ti?Macnas Bashere Commander of the Armies looked into the wind. The wind smelt dead. Worse than dead. Behind him the massed humans of all the world armies joined together were in full uniform and armed to the teeth. They had even made an alliance with the Elves and Dwarves in the hope to out number the Demon armies. Now their numbers topped over twelve million. One third of that was the humans. Now with the Elven Archers and Swordsman, and Dwarven Axemen and Mace-Wielders; on top of the Human, Pikemen, and the Elite; they could easily face the Demon Hordes. The Human Elite were the most advanced swordsmen; axemen; crossbowmen; and trappers. Then all had heavy cavalry; cavalry archers; light cavalry; lance men, and the Knights. With the trappers they hoped to destroy about half of the Demon army.
But if the news of what the scouts brought back they were outnumbered at least two to one. He shuddered to think of the ground space they took up. The army behind him took up all the space the eye could see and more.
However, his army had Wizards, and Sorcerers. They alone numbered more than ninety thousand. They were all taken from all the lands in the world. Now the only Wizard or Sorcerer not in his army is dead. They couldn?t risk them who refused to go to the Shadow. With that many of the Magic?s they would destroy at least half the army. Add that to the traps set by the Elite and you got an advantage beyond that anyone could hope for.
But he would still take caution. Covering their heads were the Red Attack Dragons. Ten thousand strong. They would take out all the flying Demons and the ones that were supposedly fourteen feet tall.
?What about the mountain range we passed a day ago? It could be easily defended from, and we can retreat easily through there should the Demons get out of hand. Then the traps could go off when they come through after us,? asked the Elven Commander.
?Yes. We will go there then and fight them on our own grounds.? Dravam said.
Three days later the mountain was set up like a fireworks factory. All it needed was for the trappers to set it off. They had it all worked out.
The Elves would attack from the right, in front of the mountain range. The dwarves would take the left. Whilst the humans would attack in the front, being the slowest of the races, so they would take the main mountain path. It took just over half a day to pass through the main mountain path for the humans; the Elves and Dwarves could make it in the same amount of time on the minor mountain paths. If a retreat was needed then, whilst in the mountains, the Dragons would attack and slow the Demons down to allow time for them to get out of the immediate danger of avalanches, and explosions.
Now massed out the front of the mountain ranges they were waiting for the Demons to come. Wooden stakes were in the ground for miles in front of each army, trip wires had been set up, and exploding cauldrons of oil and sand were set up to slow the army. With the exploding sand the Magic?s were hoping that the heat would be so great that it would meld into glass.
Thirty thousand Magic?s were in each army, including some in the Dragon Clan. This would minimise the affect of magic being thrown at the armies by other Wizards and Sorcerer Damned Ones.
About noon the next day they came. There was no chance of Demons sneaking up on them; they smelt too much. They smelt dead. It was stronger than ever now. Burning the insides of the human noses.
It was about a half hour later that they could be seen. They stretched from horizon to each side. It was another half hour later before the battle began.
With a charging rush they came upon the stakes; which were meant to slow their attack; falling on them. The cauldrons blowing up with such force that they were shredded up from the shrapnel. Falling over on the trip wires breaking legs, causing other Demons to fall. Then the Dragons attacked.
When they finally reached the men their morale was down, but not broken. The air was filled with the shrieks of the Demons, humans, Elves, and Dwarves alike.
The roar of fire could be heard in the background then the dangerous thud of it hitting earth. Then the shrieks of the Demons.
After the army was through the pass the trappers set of the crates filled with explosives. It eradicated the remanning Demon army.
They had won. They were free.
Shivering uncontrollably. Because those days were the last of his freedom. After the battle they went rounding up the last of the Demons and he met Vanya then she turned him over just as the army met a Demon army twice the size of the one at the Battle of Bloods Mountains. Which was quite an appropriate name.
But it was with the help of all of the continents animals that the army won that huge ballet, which was called: Clash of the Species. The wolves; bears; lions; all the great cats; elephants; even the Black Dragons! With their balls of fire and ice; wings that created whirlwinds, blowing up the Demons high in the air.
While he was blamed for joining the Demon army, he was actually being tortured.
And now he was in an institute that looked after the injured that were hurt during the war. Well he was hurt all right, but they treated him like a prisoner.
All Ti’boh could do now was lay in bed not able to help himself at all. He had no arms, so how could he?
Life was not fair.