Brodans Journey: Part3

In his head, dreams of his father’s stories of war and battles fought churned and twisted.  Within these visions her face constantly appeared, smiling at him, her eyes sparkling and as he smiled back, she would vanish, her beauty being disrupted by another sword piercing battle-scarred flesh.    
    The night became still and cold, not a sound could be heard, nor could anything be seen in the thick darkness.  The stillness woke him.  Everything was too quiet.  He tried to peer through the bush at the village but the darkness was too thick.  He listened for any sound at all but, nothing, not even the squeak of a night rodent and they were very seldom quiet.

    Suddenly, a flash, red and black spattered in his eyes, then darkness.  When he came round, Brodan was back in the main cabin, the chairs of leadership still standing at the front, but this time instead of Bragdon, the main seat was filled by another character, one Brodan had never seen, nor heard of.  Its’ long hair matted and ruffled, eyes as big as the circumference of a wooden beer mug and it’s mouth filled with teeth as pointy and sharp as any blade he had ever seen.  It had a strange build: it’s legs were slightly too short for it’s body but strong and muscular and it’s arms quite large emphasizing it’s strength.
    The only thing it said after looking carefully at him was “Take him to the holding, and don’t forget to beat him severely first!”  It’s breath was the last thing Brodan remembered before the two grunts dragged him out into the middle of the village and proceeded to beat him severely with sticks while the other villagers watched in horror closely guarded by the rest of the grunt troop.  He was too weak to fight back and eventually passed out from the pain  caused by his injuries.

    The village had been overrun during the night by a grunt scout troop sent by Crackan upon hearing that the village was joining the war.  How they penetrated the Northern forces is unclear.  The reality is that they were now in the village and the village was crumbling.  Just as soon as it had begun, the order was shouted into the air to retreat.  The grunts scattered and grabbed what they could.  The two beating Brodan had ceased their beating and quickly tied the broken and bloody body to a pole which both of them carried.  They ran from the village into the deep thick forest, leaving behind them an eerie aftermath, the air filled thick with confusion and shock and in the middle of it she lay on the ground her vision blackened slightly from a series of blows to the face, her dark hair wet and sticky with blood and Avidon beaten and bloody lay not far away from her, unconscious unable to come to her aid.

            She couldn’t help staring into the bush, trying to focus, hoping he would somehow have escaped and would come back holding the head of a grunt, but the memory of his beaten body flopping about as they ran brought her back to reality.  Tears filled her painful eyes “Brodan!” she screamed, full of panic and emotion… “BRODAN!”