Chapter Two

Delmar hurried off with his father toward the eastern edges of the village. Many of their people were running the other way, carrying what little they could as they made their way toward the mountains. Those who were running with Delmar and their Chief, however, were armed with what weapons they could gather. Delmar scanned his surroundings, trying to figure out what was happening. He looked straight ahead to the east and, to his shock, he could see an orange light beginning to grow. His first thought was an obvious one: their attackers were trying to burn the village.

“The Outsiders!” the Chief called out over the noise of the mayhem. “They’re attacking our lands!”

Delmar was speechless as he listened to his father’s words. It was only several months before that he remembered the young Morenno brothers arriving in the valley with their parents, the leaders of the Outsiders living among them in the Dark Zone. Delmar knew what happened between Morenno and his father, only that it ended with malice and threats. Whatever those threats were, he feared that the Morennos were finally acting on them.

The shouting was growing louder and more menacing. Delmar’s eyes widened as he suddenly saw a great horde of men charging toward them through and around the many cottages. Few of them were wielding stone swords in hand, and it was clear to Delmar that they had taken them from the hands of his own people. The rest of the Outsiders were armed with whatever makeshift weapons they could haul with them as they charged into the village in droves. Delmar was sickened by this unforeseen event.

Even his people, the few who had stayed behind to fight their attackers, were just as unprepared and inexperienced as he was. Delmar watched around his surroundings as the charge quickly turned into a chaotic, all-out brawl, with fighters on both sides struggling to bring each other down to the ground. Delmar’s attention was darting this way and that as he did not know where to go or who to help. His mind was being swarmed with mixed thoughts racing too fast to be counted.

As the Outsiders continued to flood into the village from the east, one Ravennite stood out from all the others. He was walking into the chaos with the assailants at his side, and as his own people engaged the Outsiders in the fight, he raised his sword and began to strike them down in such a manner of betrayal unforeseen by any Ravennite. This man was young; his hair was light and hung low, and about his face, he attempted to hide his true emotions behind a hardened expression of malice. His name was already known to his people by his seemingly impeccable reputation, but now it would be recognized for a different reason altogether.

“CAINE!” A powerful voice roared out, instantly seizing the young man’s attention. “TRAITOR!”

Caine felt very cold and hardened inside as he struck down his own people and forced himself to think nothing of it. However, he turned his attention at the sound of his name being called out and could not help but tremble in the presence of his Chief. He tensed his muscles and maintained his grip on his stone sword as Delmar’s father stared him down with raw anger in the midst of the chaotic conflict.

“Where is your father?” the Ravennites’ Chief growled at him. 

Caine raised his sword up in front of him in a threatening pose. He grew upon his face a look of hate that proclaimed loudly that he was betraying the Ravennites by his own choice. “I’m not the traitor!” he screamed back. “I know you did now! They told me! How dare you betray your people with your infidelity?!”

The Chief roared at him once more. He marched toward Caine and the two of them plunged into a hand to hand duel.

Delmar was strong but an inexperienced fighter, as were the rest of the Ravennites. He was initially hesitant to engage their attackers until they set their eyes on him and attempted to strike him down. Despite his ineptitude, Delmar was still able to wield the blade and the hatchet in his hands harmoniously as he repelled each of his assailants as they came. 

From out of the darkness and the discord, Delmar turned just in time to see another Outsider charging at him. Before he could react, the Outsider grabbed hold of him and tackled him to the ground. The force caused Delmar to lose his grip on his weapons. The Outsider produced a large knife and attempted to drive it down at him. Delmar quickly reached up and crossed his arms to hold back his killing gesture. His assailant was grunting menacingly as he put pressure against Delmar’s resistance.

Suddenly, out of nowhere someone charged in and carried the Outsider off Delmar, throwing him violently onto the ground. Delmar scrambled to his feet and searched for his weapons. Once he picked them back up, Delmar turned toward his rescuer, who had just finished off the Outsider and had taken his weapon before facing him as well.

“Malachai?” Delmar breathed with relief.

“Delmar!” The man called Malachai was one of Delmar’s closest friends. He was around the same age as him and was built like a warrior. He approached Delmar and placed a hand on his shoulder, looking around cautiously. “Where’s the Chief?”

“I don’t know!” Delmar breathed shakily, his attention darting this way and that. “I lost him in the chaos. Do you know what’s going on, Malachai?” 

As he spoke, Delmar looked over in time to see one of their many assailants turn his attention to them as he attempted to attack them. Delmar froze for a brief second in hesitation and anxiety. Suddenly, Malachai leaped in between the two of them and immediately drove his blade into the Outsider. He gave a sickly groan before Malachai pulled his sword back out and threw his lifeless form into the snow. Delmar tried to strengthen his poise as he watched his friend boldly thrust himself at their enemies in a manner that declared, “By my life, I will protect you!”

Delmar tensed his grip on the weapons in his hands. Both Malachai and their enemies from the Outside had convinced him that there was no chance for peace in the midst of this conflict. Several more Outsiders had revealed themselves from all around the cottages, letting out such hateful cries. 

Delmar and Malachai engaged the fray side by side as they desperately slew all foes who approached them with hostile intent. With each opponent that they struck down with their weapons, the two of them could feel their inner warriors beginning to rise to the surface in their hour of need. The outcome of this skirmish was proving to be unpredictable, so much so that Delmar found himself wondering if his people would even make it out of the valley alive. The only thing he could focus on right now was the enemies all around him and how important it was that he do everything in his power to protect his people, just as his father would.

With that mind-rending thought, Delmar’s attention was suddenly drawn toward the village square. Amidst the center of the large circle of cottages, the stone pathways running throughout the village met to form a small plaza. It was here that most of the massive brawl was taking place, and to Delmar’s horror, he spotted his father engaged in a one on one fight. However, his eyes were drawn to his father’s opponent. It was not an Outsider. By the faint light of the stars and the growing fire around the village, Delmar could see that this man was wearing the garb of his own people. At that disturbing realization it did not take Delmar long to see just who it was, and his blood ran cold. It was the son of the Chief’s most trusted friend and associate; Caine.

“Father!” Delmar cried out as he quickly made his way toward the village square, hopefully in time to help.

Malachai turned and spotted his friend running off into the chaotic bloodbath. “Delmar! What are you doing!?”

Delmar hurried his way across the snowy paths riddled with blood trying to reach his father. Malachai slaughtered another adversary and attempted to catch up with him. Delmar’s sight was set on the fight in the center of the plaza, and he almost failed to notice several Outsiders turning their attention to him. They managed to cut him off as he and Malachai readied themselves to fight. 

The Outsider engaging Delmar was not wielding any sword or bladed weapon. Instead, he attacked Delmar with a long, rusty shovel. With a sharp cry, he swung the shovel at Delmar’s head. Delmar managed to duck in time to feel the wind of the shovel as it passed over his head. By the time he regained his stance, the Outsider turned himself around and jabbed at Delmar’s stomach with the other end of the rusty tool. Delmar grunted and mistakenly dropped his weapons again. The jab knocked him back a few steps, but Delmar managed to snatch hold of the shovel’s handle. He pulled his opponent toward him and the two of them began fighting over the only weapon gripped in both their hands. They circled around each other briefly, grunting and hissing in rage. As he held onto the shovel for dear life, Delmar gathered his strength and pushed the long handle toward his adversary, knocking him in the head with it. In a swift motion, Delmar suddenly reached down and swiped his hatchet from the ground. With the Outsider briefly disoriented, Delmar spun him around and then stuck his hatchet into his back. Gasping futilely for air, the man dropped his makeshift weapon and collapsed face first into the snow as Delmar removed the hatchet from his back.

With a moment to catch his breath, Delmar looked around again for his father. Glancing back out toward the square, Delmar watched in horror as his fight with Caine suddenly turned ill. As great a man as their Chief was, it was clear that Caine’s youth was beginning to get the better of him. In a matter of mere seconds, Caine swiftly shifted his position around Delmar’s father and made a slash at the back of his knee. He cried out in pain and was forced to drop down onto his knees.

Delmar’s jaw dropped. “Father!” he called out.

As the Chief hissed, trying to suppress the pain of the slash, Caine composed himself before him. The two briefly locked eyes, and Caine repositioned his sword in his grasp so that he was holding the hilt with both his hands, pointing it directly at his adversary. The Chief was staring up at him with pure disappointment, his eyes going bloodshot. In Caine’s eyes, however, he never even showed the slightest hint of remorse for his actions, whether he was truly feeling it or not. The air had become still and cold as ever, and before he could allow any resisting thoughts to enter his mind, Caine gritted his teeth as he took a powerful step forward and drove the stone sword into his victim’s heart.

Delmar felt as though everything else had frozen as he watched. His very breath had come to a halt. He did not blink, and the cold air was stinging his eyes. In the plaza, Caine pulled his sword out of the Chief’s chest, who instantly collapsed forward onto the ground.

“NOOO!” Delmar cried out. Caine shifted his attention to him and began to back away slowly. Delmar was hissing through his clenched teeth as the hot tears were being forced from his eyes. “CAINE!” he shouted at the top of his lungs and prepared to charge in after him.

“Delmar! Watch out!” Malachai suddenly called to him.

At the sound of his friend’s voice, Delmar tried to glance to the side. A sudden reflex caused him to duck his head, but just then, he felt a terrible, painful sensation come over him as a great gash erupted upon the left side of his face. He fell straight down to the ground and planted his hand firmly over the wound as it bled profusely. His left eye had been forced shut and he gasped painfully. His hand was soaked by his own blood, and beside him, he could just barely make out his attacker standing over him. Delmar waited disturbingly for the killing blow to be struck.

Malachai ran as fast as he could and drove his sword through the Outsider to protect his friend. Delmar appeared to be in terrible shape as Malachai looked down at him. He was barely conscious and his hand was still covering the open wound on his face. Malachai was breathing exhaustively as their enemies were continuing to pour into the village square and turning their attention to him. He gripped his sword tightly in a defensive position and held his breath. 

The last of the Ravennites standing suddenly rallied to Malachai when they saw the son of the Chief fall in a final effort to protect him. Despite appearing to be outnumbered, they did not hesitate to engage their enemies from the Outside. The plaza was suddenly turned into a massive, bloody brawl. Malachai watched his friends and brothers drop like flies as the Outsiders’ numbers quickly overwhelmed them. He growled loudly in raw anger, but as much as he knew he needed to aid his people in their final stand, Malachai instead dropped his sword, grabbed hold of Delmar and began to pull him from the fight.

Delmar was moaning subconsciously in pain. Malachai glanced up as he dragged him away, and watched the battle go seriously ill as fast as he could breathe. The cold was forcing tears from Malachai’s eyes mixed with both rage and despair. He heaved Delmar carefully over his shoulders and, using the cover of the darkness as well as he could, he bolted toward the tree lines and made for the mountains. He vowed on the grave of the Chief that he would make them all pay for their sins.